


godfather

by eruriotica (minxiebutt)



Series: godfather [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biting, Brief Mentions of Porn, Burns, Cunnilingus, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Ephebophilia, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, Godfather Mike, Heavy Angst, Light daddy kink, Loneliness, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Virginity, Manipulation, Menstruation, Military Background, Orphan Nanaba, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Puberty, Spanking, Statutory Rape, Teasing, Teenage Drama, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-01-28 04:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minxiebutt/pseuds/eruriotica
Summary: Nanaba had seen pictures of Mike Zacharias in her parents’ photo albums, but she'd never seen him in person. Her newborn christening-- where he had taken the oath as godfather to lead and guide her spiritually according to the Catholic church-- didn’t count. She wanted to ask, if he'd been best friends with her father, why he’d never come around. Instead, she’d kept quiet and nodded and watched the caskets descend.





	1. love, in, falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall upon your knees saying  
> "This is my body and soul here"  
> Fall and begging, pleading  
> "You’ve got the power and control"  
> [listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWzIkW07lXo)

“You were Dad’s best man at his wedding,” was the first thing she said to him.

 

“I was. I was his best friend,” was what he said back.

 

Nanaba had seen pictures of Mike Zacharias in her parents’ photo albums, but she'd never seen him in person. Her newborn christening-- where he had taken the oath as godfather to lead and guide her spiritually according to the Catholic church-- didn’t count. She wanted to ask, if he'd been best friends with her father, why he’d never come around. Instead, she’d kept quiet and nodded and watched the caskets descend.

 

The lawyers had taken her wishes into consideration, whether she wanted to live with Mike Zacharias or her current foster family, and she’d chosen him, because it felt like holding on to the last piece of her father. The role of godfather bore no legal binding between herself and Mike, but Mike had initially expressed the willingness to take her on. In a time like that, fresh grief and loneliness and uncertainty, his choice had made her feel wanted.

 

Moving in with Mike is a quiet affair. He comes to the foster home early in the morning and picks her up, and then they drive to her old house to get some more of her stuff. Her dad had originally left everything to her mom, and his backup plan, should her mom not be around, meant everything would be taken over by Mike. Little did her parents know, on that rainy night last month, that her dad’s old and outdated will would be dug up and utilised, that Mike would deal with everything including now raising Nanaba.

 

Mike lives in a small shack-like house out in the countryside, with two bedrooms and a bathroom at the end of the hallway between them. He brings in her suitcase and then he leaves her alone in her new room. There are dogs everywhere but it's not a very messy kind of dogs everywhere, more like that there's always a few around no matter where in the house she wanders off to. They seem always eager for attention, and as if by magic, they suck the bad thoughts from her head with their curious tongues and soft fur.

 

The heaters wrap around her room at the baseboards. She has blinds over her windows covered with dark blue, threadbare curtains. There is a dresser that sits along under the window, three drawers on each side of it. Her new bed is tiny but the frame looks really nice. It's real wood with little carvings of ivy, like an antique. The mattress is bare but a set of plain green bedding sits folded on the foot of the bed. The headboard sits on the wall shared with the bathroom. The closet is right across from the window. It's filled with bare hangers. Everything feels so suddenly hollow and pointless now that the transition is complete, and she curls up on the mattress just the way it is and cries.

 

Mike knocks on her door later, and she expects him to just enter like her mom does-- _did,_ but he waits and eventually knocks again.

 

“Come in?” She says in uncertainty.

 

Mike cracks the door enough to lean his head in. “Do you like pizza?”

 

She frowns. “Yeah, who doesn't?”

 

Mike chuckles once through his nose and she feels sourly mocked by it. He doesn't say anything mean, like she thinks he might, only wants to know, “Pepperoni or anchovy?”

 

“Anchovy,” she says without hesitation.

 

“Yeah,” Mike says, then more to himself, "You're his kid, alright.”

 

They watch television and eat pizza and drink soda in awkward silence for an hour until Nanaba falls asleep on the sofa. She wakes up on her bed with a golden retriever lying in the floor nearest her later that afternoon-- she hasn't been carried since she was a small child, but she thinks to herself that it's sort of nice.

  


.

  


This is her last month of junior high, so she will be allowed to complete the school year before starting at the county high school in September. The bus picks her up on the main road about a mile from the house. Mike drops her off at the bus stop on Monday morning and promises to be there when she gets back from school.

 

He's not.

 

So she spends a couple hours sitting on the porch doing homework, and when Mike finally shows up, her stomach is growling. He offers a stunted apology but she shrugs, "At least you came back.”

 

The words are out of her mouth before she can think of, and they stop Mike in his tracks.

 

It's the next afternoon that he gives her both a key to the front door and a cellphone with his information already set as a contact.

 

“I’m sorry I didn't think of that, guess I'm out of touch,” he tells her quietly.

 

“It's fine,” she tells him and takes the offered items.

  


.

  


“That's your dad?” The brunette asks Nanaba and she frowns, looks over at Mike as he gets out of his truck to collect her from practice.

 

“Oh, no. My real parents are dead. He's my godfather.”

 

The brunette looks at her like she's grown a third eyeball between the two she already has, exclaiming, “Aren't you afraid?!”

 

Nanaba leans back from this girl and shakes her head slowly, thinking of how often she falls asleep in the sofa and wakes up tucked into bed, pushing that aside quickly.

 

“OMG,” she says every letter instead of the words they stand for, “that's the guy that was in the Marines. My dad says he went crazy in the war and that's why he lives alone in the woods. Like a crazy person.”

 

It's curiosity that keeps Nanaba from bristling at the brunette's words. “What do you mean?”

 

“Wow,” the brunette drawls, like Nanaba’s stupid for not knowing already, but she leans in to give Nanaba answers as quickly as possible before Mike is within earshot. “Like, he was apparently the only survivor of some big mission that killed a bunch of terrorists and when he came back he had like _super_ bad PTSD and he had to retire or whatever and like now he has a bunch of dogs and lives alone in the middle of nowhere because he's crazy.”

 

The girl gasps for breath as soon as she's done speaking, but Mike is close enough to scare her away by then, so she waves goodbye and darts out back up into the bleachers.

 

“Ready to go?” He asks her, reaching out to take the strap of her sports bag and slinging it over his own shoulder.

 

Nanaba looks over her shoulder at the brunette and waves, but the girl turns around quickly at being caught watching.

 

“Yeah,” she sighs out. “I am.”

 

Only when they get back in the truck does Mike say, “Make a new friend?”

 

“I guess not. She didn't tell me her name.”

 

“Ask her next time,” he tells her reassuringly with a strange upturn of his lips, not quite a smile. In that moment, Nana tries to imagine him killing people, tries to think of a reason that she might have to be afraid, but nothing comes to mind.

 

.

  


She observes him closely over the next week. Every morning, before she really wakes up, he goes out with all of the dogs, and she watches from her bedroom window, peeking between the blinds, as they dart off further into the vast expanse of the property. About an hour later, they return, the dogs’ tongues all flopping quickly with their panting and Mike looking just as exhausted. As hairy as he is, it's easy to imagine him as a werewolf leading his pack on a run. If he was really a Marine, then he’s used to exercising a lot, and she doesn't see this activity as unusual.

 

Spring is coming in slowly this year, as her dad would say, and it keeps them both wrapped up in sweatshirts and cozy pants, but sometimes when they're watching television late at night, Mike will stretch out on the sofa and she'll get a glimpse of what lies beneath his clothing. One time, as he shifts during a commercial break, his top rides up and exposes the planes low on his flat abdomen. Thick, dark hair is all there is to be seen before his large hand is grasping fabric to cover himself again.

 

Showing emotion doesn't seem to be a priority to him but more often than not, he smiles when he first sees Nanaba after school in the afternoons. Otherwise, he's so serious looking. But whenever his attention is on her, she has _all_ of it, and nothing about his attention feels threatening or malicious. She dismisses the brunette's gossip.

  


.

  


“Do you want to sell the house?”

 

Nanaba shrugs, picks through her spaghetti and twirls her fork. Dinner had been silent until now. “Aren't you the one who decides that?”

 

Mike lays his hand on the table within her line of sight, palm up, to get her attention and she looks at his face, not his eyes. “It was _your_ house, you're mature enough to help decide.”

 

There's a thrill that he says this to her, this acknowledgement makes her have to hide a smile between tucked lips. She only looks down, shrugs again. Blushes.

  


.

  


She cries when her first period comes. Physically, it is painless, but it reminds her of the _talk_ her mother gave her only a few months ago, and it hurts her in a way she can't describe.

 

Nanaba gets out of bed and goes straight to the bathroom and into the shower. Over the running water, she hears a knock on the door; it goes unacknowledged. After she rinses thoroughly, she gets out, dries off, dresses, and slinks back to her room, finding the light on and her bed stripped.

 

Even though her door is open, Mike knocks and waits permission before entering again. He's rustled with sleep, wearing maroon sweatpants, and a black t-shirt that says _USMC_ on the front in blocky, well-faded red letters. His toes peek out at her and she's distracted by them, realising she's never seen them until now. His bluntness makes it awkward for her when he asks, “Do you have what you need for your period?”

 

Nanaba can feel the blood rushing into her cheeks, but the answer is that she's wholly unprepared for this, so she shakes her head, looking anywhere but him. “It’s my first.”

 

The only place open in the middle of the night is the CVS halfway to the high school. When they enter, Mike grabs a handcart and leads her to the correct aisle. He explains each of the products to her with clinical expertise and she stands there, blushing down to her toes, nodding and focusing as best as she can. He gets her one of each different product available, tells her that it's best to find what she likes. He doesn't act like she's gross or dirty or that what's happening is something to be ashamed of. Still, the whole experience is embarrassing for her, and as soon as they're out of the store, she apologises.

 

“Sorry you have to deal with _this,”_ she says, trying to make a joke of it like all the boys at school do. Right after spring break, a girl started her period during gym class and subsequently bloomed red through her shorts, and the boys still call her ‘ _bloody Mary’_ even now.

 

Mike doesn't pick up on her jest. “Why would you be sorry? It's necessary. Part of becoming a woman.”

 

Nanaba snaps her mouth shut and looks down at her feet as she walks. She hated that phrase from her parents when they told her about the bird and the bees and menstruation, but from Mike, it's weirdly… tolerable.

  


.

  


The gossipy brunette is named Lynne Dok. Her parents just bought a nice countryside estate and she'll be going to the county high school with Nanaba in the autumn, and she tells Nanaba this on the last day of the school year.

 

“It will be nice not to be the only new kid there,” Nanaba says kindly.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Lynne agrees, not entirely malicious, just brash. “Hey, are you staying for the school fair tonight or what?”

 

“Uhh.” Nanaba is aware of the fair happening on the football field, game stands with prizes and the promise of fried foods, but she'd much rather sit on the sofa with Mike watching television… _but_ it feels like Lynne is inviting her, so she says, “Let me call Mike.”

 

Lynne rolls her eyes. “Really, permission? Aren’t you like fourteen?”

 

“Not until the end of this month,” Nanaba says, feeling a little inferior by it. She’s always one of the youngest people in her classes. Digging her mobile from her pocket, she steps off to the side and calls Mike, but it goes to voicemail after a minute. He’s probably driving.

 

“He didn’t answer?” Lynne grabs Nanaba’s wrist and tugs it. “Come on, then, let’s go.”

 

Nanaba stands still as Lynne moves away, and her wrist falls from the brunette’s grip that way. “I didn’t ask, I shouldn't go.”

 

“OMG,” her new friend huffs in exasperation. “It’s just a stupid school thing. It’s not like we’re doing drugs or having sex.”

 

“Nanaba,” the call comes from behind her, a gentle calling of her name without any negative inflection, but Lynne’s words make her jump and turn around like she’s guilty. Mike is climbing from his truck. “You ready?”

 

“Actually,” Lynne interjects, “there’s a fair tonight and she’s going with me.”

 

Mike does not take his eyes from Nanaba as Lynne speaks, and she thinks he didn’t hear it at all until he asks her pointedly, “Do you want to go, Nanaba?”

 

Nanaba freezes, put on the spot like that, a deer in the headlights. She looks to Lynne then back at Mike. “Ah, I guess so-- if that’s okay.”

 

“Of course.” Mike climbs all the way from his truck and shuts the door. “I’ll be around. Just find me when you’re ready to go.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Lynne answers for both of them, taking Nanaba’s upper arm in a punishing grip and practically dragging her off.

 

The fair is fun, but Nanaba can’t stop looking around for Mike, hoping to see him in the gathering crowd of parents sitting in the football field bleachers. And somehow, just when she's _done_ mingling with all the people and noise, she spots him for the first time.

 

“I'm leaving,” she tells Lynne, who dismisses her with a wave of her hand. “I’ll… text you.”

 

“Yeah, you have my number, okay,” Lynne says with a sad smile. “If you ever feel like something bad is going to happen… call the police, okay?”

 

Nanaba blanks on anything to say, taken off guard, and in the end stays silent before turning and leaving the beanbag-toss game.

 

Mike sees her approach and doesn't ask the obvious, something she appreciates after Lynne’s comment. They walk to the parking lot, the distance between their bodies a conscious effort on Nanaba’s part, feeling too aware, too afraid that _everyone_ thinks Mike is a crazy person, that _everyone_ is looking at them, thinks she's in trouble.

 

It must really get deep in her brain, because when she falls asleep on the sofa that night, she jerks awake at the shuffling of Mike picking her up. The television is turned off and so are most of the lights throughout the house, the hallway light being the only one left now. It illuminates Mike from behind but she can make out the worried expression on his face, something understandable as she’s never woken up in all the times he’s moved her.

 

One of his strong arms is already hooked below her knees, and the other behind her shoulders, pulling her into his chest but not yet holding her weight. It’s the closest she’s ever been to him, the first time she can ever remember them touching.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, then shushes her. “Shhh. You're safe. I wouldn't hurt you.”

 

Nanaba nods dumbly, and then Mike is lifting her, swinging her around to carry her down the hallway and to her bedroom. Her covers have already been turned back so Mike lays her down without preamble. Light from the hallway barely makes it through her doorway.

 

“Thank you,” she whispers, quiet only because she does not want to spoil the sleepiness settling over the house. Three german shepherds are nestled happily on the foot of her bed already.

 

Mike pushes her bangs back with a single stroke of his calloused hand, and then he leans forward and kisses her newly exposed forehead. “Goodnight, Nanaba Rose.”

 

Her eyes widen as something inside of her tightens pleasurably, but then Mike is pulling the covers up high on her chin, tucking her in. When she’s alone, she lets out a breath that she didn't realise she held.

  


.

  


Sleep evades her after being woken up, so when the house falls quiet and the hallway light gets turned out, she gets up for a glass of water. Not even the floorboards give her away but she moves slowly, quietly nonetheless. Closer to the living room, she can see the telltale flashing lights of the television, but there’s no accompanying sound.

 

Curious, feeling a little devious for being out of bed after being tucked in, she carefully looks around the corner at the television. What she sees registers in her brain and makes her snap back into the safety of the hallway. Heat rises in her cheeks and she darts back down the hallway, slams her door shut loudly enough to be heard throughout the whole house.

 

She feels so stupid for not thinking that Mike would do something like this, and she feels even more stupid for the bright flare of envy that she sweeps under the rug in her mind. Mike is a _man._ Very much a man. Under the safety of her bedcovers, she imagines him, the arms blanketed in fine hairs, arms like steel cables covered with skin. And his legs, from what she sees if she catches him wearing shorts for his morning run, are also laden with thick, blonde fluff. Mike keeps his hair in a decently neat undercut, and he’s modestly bearded. It’s trimmed and kept short, but full across his face and neck and it looks like it would be baby-soft to touch. He’ll move, sometimes, and all of his muscles will jump to attention, like when he’s got to pick up one of the dogs and move them. Sometimes, then too, his shirt will get caught and she can peek at his abdomen in its carved glory, or spy the dipping valleys of his back.

 

She’s not going to admit that he’s handsome, absolutely not. Not even as her fingers make a curious trek over her skin while she imagines his body in her mind. Briefly, her hand skims down between her legs to the light smattering of curls, strokes a finger over her sex a few unarousing times, and then she rolls over and goes to sleep.

  


.

  


Neither of them speak of it the next day, but they both know that Nanaba saw Mike watching porn. Within a week, the incident is less embarrassing for both of them and they settle into a routine for Nanaba’s summer break. Without school, Mike gives her a few extra chores to keep her busy while he goes into the city for around six hours, some days even twelve hours, other days, not at all. He’s a welder, she learns. His specific type of work is based on demand. On those long days, when it’s obvious that he won’t be home in the early afternoon, she puts on a jacket and wanders his property alone.

 

It’s big. That’s all she knows. It was a month or so ago, he showed her an aerial view with a neat red line drawn to mark his land where it borders his distant neighbours. She’s never come to the cattle wire perimeter, not yet. She wants to find it, if she has a day that’s long enough, wants to head straight from the house and find the fencing and follow it around the entire way, one big loop that takes her back home.

  


.

  


After a few weeks running around Mike’s property from midday to sundown, she still doesn’t have the lay-out memorised, and she regrets it the evening that an unexpected thunderstorm rolls through. She can’t call Mike because her mobile is at home on the kitchen counter, but apparently she doesn’t have to. Echoing dog barking alerts her to the homestead rescue team over the sound of thunder and rain.

 

The saint bernard finds her first, taking his time prancing up to her, his wet fur flopping heavily underneath his body, and the three german shepherds are right on his haunches, pouncing on her where she sits under a half-toppled tree. The rest of the dogs arrive on Mike’s heels. She’s happy to see him but he looks frustrated.

 

 _“Godammit,_ Nanaba,” he swears, kneeling beside her and pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. She suddenly remembers the night he tucked her in. “Do you know how far out here you are?”

 

He scoops her up like it’s nothing and puts her on her feet. “You’re going to hold on to me,” he orders sternly, leaving no room for disagreement. He piggybacks her to get her out of the brush, to where his truck sits running, headlights beaming. He must have followed the dogs this far. The pack jump the tailgate as Mike all but tosses her inside the cab of the truck, and when all his dogs are secure, he closes the tail and gets back in. The drive is easy for him, he knows his land. She's too dizzy and sleepy to pay attention.

 

He doesn’t say anything to her the entire way, but she has a feeling he wants to throttle her for getting lost in the woods on today of all days. But even when she thinks that he’s mad at her, that he might yell at her or ground her, she’s not afraid of him; she knows, innately, that he’s not going to hurt her, because if he’d really wanted to, he would have done it by now. The bumpy truck ride warms her up and her thoughts slowly stop echoing in her brain.

 

“You’re going to help dry these dogs,” he tells her as they park in front of the house. “Then you’ll get a hot bath and dinner, and you won't come out of your room until I tell you.”

 

That’s exactly how the night goes. Morning of the next day comes and goes before she stirs, and she wakes in the afternoon feeling strangely suspended between frozen to death and boiled alive. Next to her side lays the saint bernard, and he chuffs at her before scrabbling off her bed, out of her room, and down the hallway, returns a few minutes later with Mike just as Nanaba is slipping into a feverish dream. Something is chasing her through her old house, she can feel it about to trample her.

 

She jolts back into consciousness with a sharp cry of perceived pain from her dream, expecting to be in her old bedroom but no, she's at Mike’s, that much is reality. Mike is saying something to her but it can't cut through the ringing fear in her head-- the sounds of his words reverberate off the walls of her skull and run out of steam before comprehension can make anything of them.

 

And he's so close, leaning over her like this in concern, and all she can think about is the night he carried her to bed and kissed her forehead and called her by her first and middle names.

 

“Kiss me,” she whispers suddenly, still idiotic and sleep-hazy, so overcome by too many things that she can't name.

 

Mike doesn't move back from her or look disgusted by her, maybe just the opposite. He comes closer, enough for her to feel the heat of his exhales and something new and tight evolves within her, makes her want to be touched, to be kissed. With a serious gaze, he watches her, and she feels cut open by his eyes, but she wants that, wants him to open her up and explain what this madness is in her blood and in her brain.

 

“Kiss you,” Mike croons, one of his hands pushing her bangs back and he's so close, he's _right there_ and her heart hammers out of her chest with anticipation, and then he's closing the distance between them and she's too stunned to react. His mouth, open and hot and wet, ghosts over hers like a phantom, before he pecks at the corner of her mouth. Nanaba lays back in disbelief because she asked for it and he gave it to her, he _gave_ it to her.

 

There's an upturn in his lips and then he's kissing her again, for real this time, like she sees the other teenagers at school do when no teachers are around. She's desperate to meet his effort, but he makes no rush of their kisses. Hot and sweet at first, and then one of his hands is cradling the back of her head, lifting her toward him as he enjoys her mouth. Every time she surges to meet him, to reciprocate, he nips her and it _stings_ as it teaches her to be still and _let_ him.

 

“You're so beautiful,” he murmurs into her cheek before kissing it, too. “The first time I saw you, you were beautiful.”

 

“Really?” She asks quietly, feeling that pleasurable tightening once again.

 

“Yes,” he breathes like it overwhelms him and he kisses her again, forces her mouth open this time and steals the breath right from her lungs. She wilts under him, surrendering to him because it feels good, kissing him feels _so_ good, she doesn't want this to stop.

 

His beard feels so good on the sensitive skin under her jaw and he nuzzles her like he’s burrowing into her skin before he drags a fair chunk between his teeth and bites. There’s a screaming moan held hostage in her body as he pulls at her skin relentlessly, growling, the bulk of him nearly overbearing. Her stomach flips around, caught in that sweet tightening as it squeezes down on her and then-- it eases and makes her see clouds of shimmering gold, makes her release a weak, warbling moan. And then suddenly he lets go, he is licking her abused flesh, praising her, “Good girl, good girl.”

 

She feels so loose, so tired, so _good_ and Mike is looking down at her with a satisfied smirk. Unable to form the question, to ask him what happened, he says for her, “That’s all it takes for you to cum… good girl.”

 

Horror settles over her and she covers her face, rolls sideways under his weight to hide her shame. Mike chuckles and pries her hands back, gently kisses the welt. In sex education, they had called it ‘orgasm’ but Mike’s word for it is so much better, makes her feel even hotter.

 

“You should be proud,” he murmurs. “You’re becoming a woman, Nanaba Rose.”

 

She nods but she can’t look at him, not while blushing this badly. With one more gentle, parting kiss, Mike leaves and tells her to come out whenever she’s ready.

  


.

  


“Are you upset?” They’re on the couch, awake way too late that night.

 

Nanaba looks across the empty space between them, not quite meeting his eyes, and shakes her head. She’s still so embarrassed, though she feels unsatisfied, wants to do their kissing all over again.

 

“C’mere,” he orders and she meets his eyes then. They’re soft, unthreatening. She takes the chance and slides between his legs, hoping she looks good doing it, lays on his chest and tucks the top of her head under his chin. Strong arms immediately cage her. One of his massive legs rides up between her smaller ones, bent at the knee, a perch.

 

The heartbeat inside her chest hammers, makes the welt throb. Seeing that mark on her neck in the mirror had spurred confliction. One part of her was proud of it like Mike told her to be, but the louder part of her reminded her the situation. She’s only _almost_ fourteen and Mike is over twenty years older than her… and he thinks she’s beautiful even with her boyish body; she doesn’t even wear a bra yet. And he wants her, anyway.

 

But… this is supposed to be wrong. How can it be, though? He makes her feel special and wanted, her tells her how mature she is for her age. He respects her in ways that the boys her age don’t. Something that feels right _cannot_ be wrong. And they’re laying here together and he’s not touching her like earlier, he's not a predator… they’re just together watching television innocently. No, she decides. It can’t be wrong. This must be fine. If there were something really bad about her being with Mike, then she would feel like she’s in danger, and she doesn’t. She feels so overwhelmingly safe, remembers the way he sounded when he whispered, _“I wouldn’t hurt you.”_

 

She trusts him.

  


.

  


_sleepover @ mine?_ Lynne sends while Mike is running with the dogs. She came out of her bedroom to find a box of Lucky Charms with a balloon taped to it, ‘happy birthday’ written in permanent marker. Nanaba eats a bowl of cereal sitting on the kitchen counter.

 

_Let me ask._

 

_OMG U R 14 NOW!!_

 

Nanaba rolls her eyes and types out _k. text later._

 

It’s not the first thing she asks when Mike gets back. He spares her a tired glance in his way through the house, but she’s too busy looking at the way his hair lays plastered to his forehead with sweat, the same on his arms and legs. Wet spots soak his shirt down his chest and under his arms.

 

The dogs all flop down as soon as they get into the house, creating a maze of panting bodies when Nanaba goes to take the trash out to the bin, after washing her spoon and bowl. When she comes back inside, Mike is standing at the kitchen sink, only part way dressed; his jeans are on, his shirt is over his head but left sitting around his neck like a scarf instead of pulled down. Under his left shoulder, the skin is blotchy and raised, as if it had once been bubbles. She's not aware of her stare until Mike says, “Touch it.”

 

“What is it?” She asks, watching the floor to navigate the furry, heaving bodies.

 

“Burns,” is all the explanation she receives but she's not eager for more. Up close, she can see how mottled the skin is, shiny and stretched-looking, silvery in some places, brown in others. No hair grows there, and as she follows the burn’s trail that wraps around his ribs, she finds it extends over part of his nipple, now a mangled remain.

 

She can't understand then, his occupation, and she asks him why he chose it.

 

 _“That_ fire I could not control.” Mike puts his glass down and pushes his arms through his shirt sleeves, tugs it down. “When I weld, I'm in control of it, making it useful.”

 

Nanaba doesn't understand. If she'd been burned like that-- just the memory of stray wrists in hot skillets makes her wince-- she would never want to see another flame in her life. And Mike is a professional welder now, it's baffling.

 

“Lynne Dok wants to have a sleepover,” she says. “I want to go. Is that okay?”

 

“Of course, I will drop you off.” But there's something disappointed in his tone. For an instant, she wants to take her request back and ask Mike what he wants to do today instead, but her mobile chirps loudly on be counter. Mike picks it up and reads the message awaiting in the lock screen. With a faint chuckle, he asks, “Spoiled little kid, isn't she?”

 

 _WELL???_ sits there, demanding attention. It seems so immature to Nanaba, especially considering Lynne will turn fifteen when the school year starts. Mike is right, Nanaba is mature for her age, and she grins as she types back _yeah what time?_

  


.

  


Mike has to pick Nanaba up sometime near midnight. She sits on the Dok’s front porch with her knees to her chest in a rocking chair, a sniffling mess. Mrs Dok keeps trying to check on her and soothe her, to apologise for Lynne’s upsetting words, and Nanaba accepts the kindness because it's expected for her to do so.

 

Both of Lynne’s parents come out into the porch when Mike pulls up in their driveway; they're filling the still night air with tension and stress. Nanaba stays where she's at.

 

Mike’s eyes are in her as he approaches, but he stops to speak with the Doks first. “Nile, Renee, everything alright? Nanaba sounded upset when she called.”

 

She smushes her face into the bony tops of her knees in frustration at him being so polite. When she had stormed out here ten minutes ago, she had been crying and nearly incoherent until Mike had calmed her enough to make her ask for him to pick her up in a shaky voice. Right now, she just wants him to defend her, to defend himself, and instead he's acting like this is no big deal.

 

The Doks recount their daughter’s crass words in a repentant monologue, and Mike only nods calmly, understandingly, and when he's done talking, he walks across the porch to Nanaba and stands in front of her until she cranes her neck to meet his gaze.

 

“Ready to go home?”

 

She nods.

 

“Thank Mr and Mrs Dok for their hospitality.”

 

Nanaba balks at that, but she just wants to go home, so she says thank you and stands there while Mrs Dok gives her an annoyingly tight hug.

 

In the truck, she lets the hot angry tears wash over her cheeks; Mike leaves her to her emotion storm and that only makes it stir. They're home and on the sofa when she finally snaps, “Why didn't you stand up for me?”

 

Mike looks at her from the corner of his eye. “I did.”

 

“All you did was stand there, like my feelings don't matter!”

 

“I don't have the same benefit for losing my composure as other people, Nanaba.”

 

“Why? Huh?” She feels so out of control of herself that she can't stop the rush of words. “Is it because you were in the Marines and now you're crazy? So you have to just let people say whatever they want about you now? Lynne said she wouldn't come to my funeral if you killed me and ate me!”

 

“Lynne is a child!” Mike bellows, the sound shaking her eardrums and making several of the dogs jump up anxiously. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes on a deep inhale before he says, quietly, “Lynne says ridiculous things because she is a kid, Nanaba. You're better than she is. You have to be the bigger person here.”

 

“That's not fair!” Nanaba screams at him, can’t stop herself, can’t stop the way everything narrows down to her emotions. “She's a fucking bitch and you should have stood up for me!”

 

The dam of his self-control splits and she sees the way his own anger floods his brain, the way it twists his face into an unrecognisable snarl. The backhand sends her from the sofa to the floor. As she collects herself in shock, Mike says nothing.

 

When she rolls onto her bottom and sits up, holding her cheek and tears blurring her vision, Mike says slowly, “I can't lose my composure around other adults. One wrong move and you'll be right back in foster care. I can't lose you, Nanaba Rose, not now. I have to protect you.”

 

“I…,” she tries, and though it feels like she can't say it, she wants to try, “I’m….” A sob chokes her, then another and another, and Mike stays nearby, silent and uncomforting, while she cries at the unfairness of it all.

  


.

  


For breakfast, he makes her a stack of pancakes, _‘sorry’_ written in frilly whipped cream on the top. There's no appetite in her, but she eats them anyway while Mike explains himself.

 

“Nile-- Mr Dok, was friends with your dad and me growing up,” he starts, then tells her about the rift that separated them in high school, and eventually college. All three of them promised to become officers in the Marine Corps together, but when the other two found women to settle down with early on, only Mike stuck to the plan. He wanted to stay in touch with them, but there was too much difference between them all, and every time he came home, they seemed further apart.

 

“Your christening was the last time I came back until….” Absentmindedly, he scratches the shoulder where the skin is burned. “I got medically discharged, couldn't serve anymore. And I got here and your dad had fallen out with Nile so… I kept to myself.”

 

“Why didn't you come around?” Nanaba pushes pieces of her food around in her plate. She wishes she could have known him before her parents died, could have discovered a relationship with him back then… but she knows anything that may have formed between them would not be like it is now. The thought is double-sided. “You're in the family photo albums.”

 

“Didn't want to be a bother.” Mike shifts like it pains him to admit so much. “He made good for himself, I didn’t wanna ruin that, too.”

  


.

  


Lynne’s apology comes a few days later as Nanaba is picking up after the dogs, asking if she wants to go to watch fireworks for the fourth of July. Mike declines, and Nanaba doesn’t press on the issue even though she doesn’t understand why. But he drops her off and promises that he’s only a phone call away. It’s awkward at first, but Lynne buys her a snow cone for remedy. Nanaba remembers how it hurt Mike to tell her about the distance between himself and her dad and Mr Dok, so she figures being friends with Lynne is one way to be the bigger person.

  


.

  


“I’ve got something to show you,” Mike had said that afternoon, and so he took her out into the property, to a workshed she’d seen several times in her wanderings. It’s not very far from the house, but easy to miss, with a close nestling of trees protecting it.

 

“This is what I wanted to show you,” he says now, unlocking the door and holding it open for her to enter first. The space is neat and clean, and it’s not any present hazard that makes her stop in her tracks, it’s what she sees.

 

“Don’t be shy,” he urges, moving in next to her, but she feels a little too terrified to do anything except stuff her face into his chest. One hand comes to cradle the back of her head, the other splayed out on her lower back. “What?”

 

Nanaba shakes her head against him. “What is all this?”

 

“These are things I want us to do together, one day.” He strokes her back like it’s supposed to be reassuring but it makes her tense.

 

“I don’t want to,” she blurts, then tries to fix it, “At least right now. Please.”

 

“I won’t bring you back if you don’t want.”

 

She nods into his shirt. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

 

Now, Mike’s arms cocoon safely around her. “You will be, someday. I know it.”

  


.

  


Over the second half of the summer, Nanaba gets more comfortable around Mike. The night that he hit her eventually leaves the surface of her mind, sinks below the water, new boats of affection claiming her attention. Mike’s got a new habit of dragging her to her bed instead of letting her fall asleep on the sofa, tucks her in only to throw half his weight on her like he's trying to drown her. He doesn't touch her under her pajamas, but he'll lay there and kiss her until her head spins, and he'll hold her to his chest until she falls asleep.

 

High school is rapidly approaching when her boobs begin to develop. Her chest is sore at first, then her nipples are terribly tender to the point that running around and exploring becomes unbearable. Despite how well Mike dealt with the onset of her periods, she can't bring herself to approach him about this, but it seems she doesn't have to.

 

“Hurt yourself?” One of his calloused hands rests on her sternum. “You keep rubbing.”

 

“It's sore,” she murmurs, hiding her mouth behind her fist. Nanaba turns away to say, “I think I'm getting boobs.”

 

Mike’s fingers splay, his thumb brushing right over an extremely delicate nipple under her shirt. A pause while she flinches, and then, “Show me.”

 

Nanaba blanks, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed, spell broken only when Mike presses his thumb in and she gasps. He leans in, watching her face curiously, nuzzles the sore spot he's discovered with a smirk, inhales long and deep.

 

With more authority, “Show me, Nanaba Rose.”

 

“O-okay.” Heavy heat rises in her face, its flow exacerbated by the rapid pumping of her heart. With sweating hands, she grips the seam of her t-shirt and lifts it. Mike sits back to study the revealed flesh with a serious look.

 

Nanaba hangs her head, waiting and nervous. Her boobs aren't even boobs yet, just puffy and inflamed, or something like that.

 

“Your breasts are cute,” he tells her, his breath tickling.

 

Tugging her shirt down, Nanaba halfheartedly hides a smile by pressing her cheek into her shoulder. Every word he uses in these instances are so mature, but he makes it sound so hot, too. _Breasts._ The boys at school would giggle over something like that, but he's not a boy, he's a _man,_ and it shows. And it's _her_ that he wants. Someone older and more mature like him recognises her own maturity and he likes her for it, and that feels good to her.

  


.

  


The county high school is a thirty minute walk from the house. Mike is off work the first day of classes and escorts her, holding her hand while they’re in the privacy of his property, then letting go once they’re on the main road that leads to the township proper. It’s a fairly new redbrick building, a boring three-story rectangle with a detached gymnasium connected by a covered walkway. Mike hangs back as they get closer, and by the time Nanaba realises he is absent from her side, she is several paces ahead. She knows he can’t be affectionate with her in public, but she yearns for a kiss. Mike puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and says, “You’ll do fine.”

 

Nanaba nods and smiles, turns and follows the flow of foot traffic. The opening assembly reveals the student population to be just a couple hundred in number. Schedules had been mailed out the week prior, and Nanaba stumbles her way through the corridors until she gets to her homeroom.

 

It’s a lazy day for studies. Her teachers pass out their year’s syllabi and drone on about the responsibilities of high school, how different it is from junior high. She stops listening by third period. During lunch hour, she hunts for her assigned locker and eats her peanut butter sandwich sitting alone.

 

At the end of the day, she loads all of her new textbooks into her backpack, grunting with the weight, and starts for the trek home. Mike and the dogs meet her at the junction of his private road with the main one, Mike taking hold of her with a hand cupping the back of her neck, bending her backward for a kiss. Her backpack _thumps_ down onto the pavement when she throws her arms out to catch herself. The dogs’ only interests are the new smells she carries, and they eagerly fight to get their noses pressed against her.

 

“I missed you,” she blurts as soon as they part.

 

“I missed you, too,” Mike rumbles out. With her standing back on her own two feet, his hands are free to slide down her back and settle on her hips, his thumbs meeting around the front and his fingertips together at the base of her spine. “Make any new friends?”

 

Nanaba nuzzles into his chest and shakes her head. “I have half my classes with _Lynne.”_

 

Mike leans down to kiss the top of her head. Hand in hand, they walk back home. Nanaba spreads her books and papers out on her bed and organises them accordingly. She can hear something frying in the kitchen. Soon after, Mike knocks on her door.

 

“I want to sign up for the home economics club after school, but there’s weekly dues,” she says at dinner. She pushes the last meatball around on her plate before cutting it in half with her fork. “And I’d like to continue with field hockey this year.”

 

“Home ec’ club, that’s a good idea.” Mike motions about the house in general with his fork. “Could use a woman’s touch around here. Go for it.”

 

Nanaba tucks her chin against her chest and smiles.

  


.

  


Despite the sensitivity of her nipples, Nanaba still doesn’t have boobs yet, something glaringly apparent at gym class, when she’s the only one without a pretty bra to hang up in her locker in the girls’ changing room. She pulls the tight tanktop down over her torso and then puts her jersey over top of it. Meanwhile, Lynne stands next to her, caging her bountiful chest up. They’ve texted some over the remainder of the summer, but Nanaba hasn’t really been in the mood to hang out with her. After class, when everyone’s getting dressed in street clothes once more, Nanaba buries her head in her locker to try and quiet her jealousy.

  


.

  


Nanaba is washing their dishes when Mike hugs her from behind. She leans her head back to get a forehead kiss as his hands snake their way under her shirt, his thumbs finding her nipples and pressing them into her chest.

 

“We should get you a bra,” he suggests. “Want to do that this weekend? We’ll go into the city.”

 

She hasn’t been into the city since moving out here, and that thought brings a vicious, nostalgic desire. “Oh, yeah, can we go by the house, too?”

 

“Of course.”

  


.

  


The saleslady measures Nanaba over her clothing and then shows her the appropriate section for her size. Mike waits outside of the nauseatingly pink store, scrolling through something in his mobile as he sits on a bench. Nanaba picks out a few cute things, concerned only by Mike’s opinion, and she gets matching panties, too. She daydreams about the look he'll have on his face when they get home. The saleslady takes everything to the checkout for her while she retrieves Mike to pay for her stuff.

 

“All ready,” Nanaba says cheerfully.

 

“Good girl,” he murmurs in passing, unable to give her too much affection in such a crowded, public place. “Get one more thing, a thong in the smallest size.”

 

Nanaba pulls her lips between her teeth and does so.

 

“You're so confident,” their cashier says, taking the new addition and scanning it before dropping it into the bag with everything else. “Most dads squirm when they come in with their daughters.”

 

It's an easy mistake to make. Mike is a giant while Nanaba is the tallest girl her age, they're both blonde, and there's a sizeable difference between their ages. Her heart rate spikes and she doesn't hesitate between thinking of an idea and acting on it.

 

“Because I have the best daddy,” Nanaba beams. She looks up at Mike and her smile infects him.

 

“You do,” he murmurs and, still smiling, shifts his attention to his wallet.

 

“Aww,” the cashier coos, interloping on their private teasing. Mike gives the cashier a shadow of a smile and takes the receipt and pink paper bag when offered, and they depart.

 

“Thank you,” Nanaba says. The dying thrill makes her self-conscious. “Is it okay that I called you ‘daddy’?”

 

“Baby girl,” Mike threatens low, “don't get bent over my knee and spanked.”

 

Something tells her that it’s playful, that he means it in a good way, yet the thought of his huge hands slapping on her bottom make her feel like her behaviour is frowned upon. Nanaba withdraws, or at least tries to. Mike loops one arm around her shoulder for a brief embrace.

 

“I’m not upset,” he clarifies, walking them through the shopping mall toward a frozen yogurt stall at the edge of the food court.

 

“Why would you...” She doesn’t think she can say it outloud, so instead, she finishes, “do _that_ to me?”

 

“As a reward,” Mike says as if it’s plain to see. He walks them to the end of the line. “How about something else for now?”

  


.

  


It’s weird to be in the old house as it is. The furniture is covered with white sheets. Every electronic is unplugged. Dishes sit in neat stacks in the cabinets. It feels dead and sterile.

 

There’s a fine layer of dust on the bookshelves when she takes down the family photo albums. Initially, she’d left them here, the pain of her parents death still too fresh to look in the face. Now, it feels so far away. It’s been four months. She hadn’t thought that four months would make it seem so far away, and the guilt for that overwhelms her. How could she let it get pushed to the back of her mind? It should still be on the forefront, it should be the only thing that she can think about, but she’s hardly given it the time.

 

After a quiet walk through the house, she comes to her old bedroom, but she can’t twist the knob and open the door. She stands frozen there in the upstairs hallway, dark without sunlight.

 

It’s all so familiar but it’s wrong, her parents are dead. Erwin and Marie Smith lay in the ground, side by side, dead, and they’re not in their bedroom at the end of the hallway, they’re not going to come out and ruffle her hair and pick her up and make her feel less alone, like the whole world is caving in, collapsing in on her in this darkness.

 

“Nanaba?” Mike is peeking over the top stair at her.

 

Only then does she realise that she’s crying on her knees in front of her bedroom door. When a hitching inhale emerges from her, Mike darts up the remaining stairs.

 

“Hey,” he croons, settling behind her to hug her, his knees up around her side, pulling her back flush against his chest. His arms are iron bars across her stomach, forcing her to breathe in time with him. “Hey, it’s alright.”

 

“They’re dead,” she murmurs, looking toward her parents’ bedroom. “They’re….”

 

Mike’s chin hooks over her shoulder to block her view, tugs it back. His breath is soft on her neck. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. Don’t think about it, you’re in a panic.”

 

“They’re dead. They,” she sucks in a wet sob, feeling something heavy and hopeless and foreboding galloping into her mind, “died, they died and I’ll die, too, I’ll die, I won’t exist, I--”

 

Cobra-quick, one of Mike’s hands grip her throat, his thumb finding a painful point under her jaw. “Don’t,” he hisses directly into her ear, “think about it.”

 

Nanaba gasps but her mind is on a runaway train, the panic falling on her so completely. “I’ll die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die like they did, they’re dead, they’re _dead--”_

 

Mike forces her head around to kiss her, but she can’t jump off the train, she can’t focus on anything except the continuous stream of fear and anxiety. A nip pierces her tongue and her eyes fly open, she finds Mike looking at her with a purely predatory stare, and she feels so vulnerable, so exposed, but it works to pull her out of her head.

  


.

  


“Sell the house,” she says on the drive home, because Mike’s home is her home now. That empty house in the city, it’s nothing but a coffin for memories.

 

“We can do that.” Mike takes her hand from her lap and lifts it to his mouth.

  


.

  


Breakfast and lunch on Sunday go by before she leaves her bed. She feels weighed down, too close to the verge of panic again. The whole week, she feels that way, even though Mike does his best to distract her with kisses. Life continues on as normal, and by the end of September, the panic begins to edge its way from her mind until it vacates altogether.

 

She’s gotten used to wearing a bra everyday now, and though it’s still unnecessary for her to do so, she feels less freakish at gym class with it. Mike insists on taking it off for her when she gets home and she lets him, because the attention he gives her breasts is nice. Their whole routine is nice.

 

Lynne invites her to hang out several times and Mike coaxes her to agree with the promise of kisses when she gets home.

 

“But I’m too mature for the other kids my age,” she likes to pout, because he never denies that she’s right.

  


.

  


The work shed looms in the back of her mind, an ever-present hum of curiosity, until one day it grows in intensity, makes her hot and squirmy with thoughts of Mike, his hands and his mouth and the cock she has felt but has not seen. She’s noticed that halfway through her monthly cycle, this sort of warm, insatiable hunger nestles into her gut. It makes her want to touch herself past the thin curls on her mons pubis, but she’s always too shy to go lower. This is the worst that her hunger has ever felt. It’s unignorable, it’s overwhelming. It needs to be filled.

 

She hears Mike gathering the dogs for his morning run. Her heart pounds as she rolls out of bed, trudges to her door and opens it. Directly across the hallway, Mike’s door is ajar, giving her the barest glimpse into his room, the only one in the house she hasn’t been in. The saint bernard trots through the doorway and into the hall, followed by Mike, who raises his brow at seeing Nanaba up so early on a Sunday.

 

He opens his mouth to ask her something, but she beats him, blurting, “I want to do the stuff you showed me in the work shed.”

 

Mike snaps his mouth shut, his expression smoothes out, he stares. Just when she’s afraid that she said the wrong thing, he nods and closes his bedroom door behind himself.

 

“I’ll be back,” he says and the gravel of his unused voice makes her press her knees together. “Take another shower. Get one of the shirts from my dresser.”

 

“Okay,” she whispers, suddenly shy with the anticipation rising. “Have a good run.”

 

Closing the distance between them, Mike kisses her forehead. “You’re a good girl.”

  


.

  


The panties are snug when she puts them on, and when Mike pulls them up a little higher, she has to grip his shoulders to stay on her feet. He sits on the edge of his bed, knees spread for her to stand between them, studying her sex intently. She watches as he grips the lips of it and pulls them apart, and the thong rides up even further. The warbling, whining sound that leaves her mouth makes him smile.

 

He rubs the tops of her thighs and then pinches them. “Relax.”

 

She nods silently, biting the t-shirt she holds up between her teeth. Rough hands encircle her hips. Lace rubs her with every tiny movement, makes her twitch, which rubs her more, makes her twitch _more._

 

“Does it feel good on your clit?” Mike’s thumb slides down and pokes her in exactly the right place to make her jerk backward, only to have the onslaught of friction make her wiggle in search of relief from the stimulation.

 

It’s too embarrassing to answer, especially with her body responding in a way she can’t control. Barely, she manages to whimper around cotton, “Yes.”

 

“Over my knee, now,” he croons, his hands helping position her. Nanaba’s face must be the colour of cherries by the time her bottom is up in the air. Mike grips her by the back of the neck but it feels safe this way, it feels like he can tune in to her mind like this. “Such a pretty little ass, Nana. I’m going to spank you until you cum.”

 

Every callous of his hand can be felt as he passes it over her bottom once, twice. It takes everything in her control not to move. That control does not last long. Not when he’s slapping her, lighting her hind on fire and every movement makes her jerk against the lace. Ten minutes later, he nestles her into his bed and she lets him handcuff her to the frame. She’s hazy with endorphins and orgasm, but she spreads her legs when he tells her to, and she lets him lick her thoroughly until she cums again, lets him impale her on his fingers until she cums in hoarse cries, lets him lash the insides of her thighs with a crop until unconsciousness looms. She gives everything to him because she wants him to own this part of her, she wants him to be her first and her only.

 

After it’s all done, she’s a sweaty mess but he trails kisses over all of her skin, tells her how much he loves her. Nanaba follows her base instincts, whimpering, “hold me” and seeking his generously given warmth. They sleep together in his bed for a little while.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. love, in, scalding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> those are the days  
> that bind us  
> together, forever  
> and those little things  
> define us  
> forever, forever  
> [listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fnqWIr3UYU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains heavy sexual content.

With autumn demands coming in, Mike begins to go into work on the weekends for a few hours. It’s not much time, but Nanaba cannot stand being alone in the house without him now, and he doesn’t seem bothered that she tags along to the city with him. There’s a library branch close enough to his work that she can walk to and hang out for a few hours. She misses the busy city atmosphere some days, but a nice and lazy life in the country grows on her.

  
.

 

  
Gelgar scratches the back of his head and then shoves his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Hey, um, I was wondering if I, um, can I have your number?”

  
“Yeah, okay.” She doesn’t think anything of it, writes the digits down on a slip of paper and hands it to him before leaving homeroom. The significance of the interaction buzzes in later that afternoon with Lynne’s message as Nanaba sits on the kitchen counter at home and eats cereal.

  
_how could u?!_ , Lynne sends with four little angry faces. Nanaba reads the message once, anxiety rising in her chest. There’s no context, and Lynne had seemed fine after school. Carefully, she sends back a question mark. Faster than she thought possible, Lynne sends a big block of text, explaining her crush on Gelgar and accusing Nanaba of trying to take him for herself.

  
Appetite thoroughly spoiled now, all that she can send back is, _i don’t want him, sorry._

  
_“SORRY”??!! UR such a liar_

  
It’s only fair, Nanaba thinks, because she’s called Lynne the same thing to Mike. Something so stupid and immature as this made-up drama isn’t even worth replying to. She leaves her phone on the counter and washes her bowl, something more important waiting for her. In her backpack, she has a neat stack of papers, recipes she printed at the school library so that she could ask questions about them at club.

  
With cooking club meeting on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Nanaba is feeling fairly confident by her dad’s birthday. She shows Mike the recipe of what she wants to make for dinner that night, and while she’s at school, he picks up what she asks for at the store. She’s been getting bolder in the kitchen, and while she doesn’t think she’s ready to cook totally from scratch yet, she’s going to try tonight. She’s never made anything by herself and she feels confident with Mike taking an interest in her growing skills. They watch foodie television and look up copycat recipes to their favourite restaurants, and he calls her to help him prepare every meal that they’re together for.

  
“Your father would be proud of the woman you’re becoming,” he tells her after dinner, taking their plates to the sink to be washed.

  
Ratatouille was the first meal she prepared completely by herself, from chopping the vegetables and following the recipe very precisely, to frying some eggs over easy on the side. It’s not exactly like her mom used to make, but she thinks that maybe her dad would have still enjoyed it. The smell of his favourite Saturday breakfast brings a sad nostalgia, one that Mike chooses to banish with something to look forward to instead.

  
“We’re going to my family’s Thanksgiving,” Mike tells her. “They’re gonna love you. Having a helpful teenager will be a nice change.”

  
“When?” She rushes to ask, then kicks herself for not thinking straight in the wake of his compliment. Mike pats her head with a soapy hand and smiles down at her.

  
“You know. There’s a place in the city. Does all kinds of instructional classes for couples and kids.” Mike quiets for a moment, chewing over his words, his jaw clenched. When he speaks, it almost sounds worried. “I can’t take you on real dates like I want. But, there’s a father-daughter class for making bread next week.”

  
Nanaba looks up at him and then tucks her lips between her teeth to hide her smile. Mike nudges his elbow into her shoulder, chuckling when he asks, “What?”

  
“Are you… asking me out?” Nanaba says shyly, putting way too much focus on stacking the last rinsed dishes in the drying rack.

  
“Yes.”

  
Hunching her shoulders up, she tries to shrug out the excitement. “Yeah, I mean, I guess. But….” When she can’t form the question, she bites her bottom lip and pulls the stopper out of the bottom of the sink. Mike’s hand comes to rest on the back of her neck, kneading his fingers like a feline. They’re hot from washing dishes, and it works to soothe her tension, makes her lower her shoulders and finally ask, “What am I? To you. Like, am I your girlfriend, or--”

  
Mike’s fingers slide up and into her hair, taking it in his fist and pulling her head back to expose her throat and prevent her from speaking. Her mouth opens with strain, and he plants a kiss where her lips part. Against them, he breathes with possessiveness, “You’re _mine_ , that's what you are.”

  
Nanaba tries to swallow but instead can only whimper, and Mike eases his hold, kissing one of the cheeks that she feels burning.

  
.

 

  
The release bell rings at the end of a long Friday, and Nanaba loiters, aiming to catch Lynne and apologise for her misunderstanding at the beginning of the week, but Mike sends her a text that he’s out in the parking lot and she abandons her mission gleefully. She watches the way he watches her weave around the moving vehicles, upperclassmen anxious to leave the school property for their own personal reasons. He doesn’t start the truck when she climbs in and closes the door.

  
“Come here,” he murmurs, patting the side of his thigh gently. Once she is in the middle seat on the bench where he wants her, Mike drops his hand to her crotch and punishingly grips it.

  
She’s too surprised to gasp. All she can do is hide her face in her shoulder away from him, which seems to only make him dig his fingers into her sex through the denim. As a whimper escapes from her throat, he eases up, rubs his hand down her thigh, and then removes his touch completely to drive them home.

  
As they approach the turn off the main road and onto his private one, he says, “Unbutton your pants.”

  
Pleasurable tightening makes her press her knees together, but she obeys, and watches in wonder as Mike slips his middle and ring fingers into his mouth. Those same fingers, now wet with saliva, skate down her belly and disappear into her jeans, their destination making her gasp. Nanaba arches her back and her heads _thunks_ against the headrest. She holds a moan hostage.

  
“I want to hear you,” Mike growls, penetrating her with one of the fingers. “Don’t be quiet.”

  
Nanaba groans. It’s suddenly so hot and she feels like her spine is on fire. Her hips jerk in the effort to keep from moving as Mike nudges the tip of his second finger in, the stretch burning. He doesn’t push them in further or move them, they only sit there, tempting her, making body light aflame with the need for her to move down on them.

  
“Moan, don’t move,” Mike orders and she can’t help but obey, overwhelmed. They’ve only done something like this once before, and it was in his bed, not his truck. She can feel hot impatience down in her toes.

  
Mike manoeuvres the truck and parks one-handed, and when he opens his door, he finally pulls out of her, but not away from her. He drags her with him, pulls her against his chest until she has to wrap her legs around his waist to let him carry her. Her arms snake around his neck and she buries her face in his chest, panting and squirming to alleviate the wetness he left behind.

  
He doesn’t bother shutting the front door behind them, only carries her to the couch and sits them down.

  
“Turn around.” His voice is low, threatening. She rocks her hips up against his stomach and he grips her around the middle, his hands encircling her waist entirely, and he forces her around the other way in his lap. He spreads his legs and then sets her legs to hook over his on the outer side, tells her, “Hook your ankles around my calves.”

  
She’s spread as wide as her baggy jeans will allow, and she obeys, curling her toes, too. Even in his lap like this, he’s so much larger, practically able to hunch over her. With one hand on her chest, he holds her up; with his dominant hand, he slips into her jeans again to finish his work. There’s nothing but whimpers, high-pitched and pathetic, until he pushes those two thick fingers into her wholly without resistance, his earlier teasing having prepared the way. Nanaba’s whine catches and flutters down into a moan, and then finally a long, breathy sigh. It feels so good and she feels so hot and embarrassed and _proud_ to have his fingers inside of her. Her body remembers last Sunday, loosens to accept more of him.

  
“That’s it. Good girl,” Mike praises, his beard tickling her ear. “So wet already.”

  
In unison, his fingers rub at a blinding spot within her and her hips grind down on him for more, her body answering an instinctual need. Spreading her wide in his lap like this, he easily coaxes three orgasms from her, then forces two more, and by the end, she’s a sweating, shaking, panting deadweight held against his chest, her head thrown back over his shoulder and a trail of drool connecting her mouth to his ear. Mike lays her down on the sofa and kisses her forehead, but she passes out before she can say anything.

  
.

 

  
She wakes to dogs growling, and a reluctant knock on the front door. Everything sounds muffled, and she opens her eyes to find Mike has taken her clothes and in exchange, draped a thick quilt over her.

  
“Don’t get up,” he mutters in passing on his way to answering his unannounced visitor. The dogs, all laying around the living room, lift their heads curiously, but he orders them to stay. The wall of the mudroom blocks her view, but Nanaba picks up Lynne’s voice after the door opens.

  
Mike steps back into the living room and Lynne follows him, Mr Dok trailing behind her. Her dad looks unimpressed to be here, but he offers Mike a firm handshake and a grasp on the shoulder, the one Nanaba knows is burned.

  
“So, like, sorry or whatever,” Lynne says, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes. “It’s not your fault that Gelgar liked you, but we’re dating now. I wanted to, just, like, clear up the air.”

  
Nanaba watches her for a moment, unsure of what to say. She doesn’t particularly care for this needless drama, but she wants to be friends with Lynne for the sake of Mike and Mr Dok, so she dismisses it. If Mike wants her to be the bigger person, she will be that, she will make him proud. Sighing, she says, “It’s okay. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

  
Lynne looks at Nanaba as if the words are unexpected and it seems, to Nanaba’s great satisfaction, that it keeps any more mean words from tumbling out of Lynne’s mouth.

  
“Are we still friends?”

  
Lynne shrugs and then nods. “Yeah. We are. Sorry… too.” She hesitates as if she’s not used to being wrong, that maybe she never sees herself as the person transgressing.

  
After Mike sees them out, he comes back and sits on the arm of the sofa near her head. Reaching down to pet her, he praises, “You’re so mature. How do you get through the school day?”

  
Nanaba pulls the quilt up to cover her smile and subsequent blush.

 

  
.

 

  
Their bread-making class is in an hour, but Nanaba does not want to go. She comes home from school to find Mike digging a large hole in the dark soil under the bur oak. A lump wrapped in a white sheet waits patiently.

  
“Old dog’s heart gave out,” Mike tells her. He doesn’t look at her, not even when she kneels beside it and draws a corner of the sheet back, rubbing her fingers over the cold snout. The panic is vacant this time. She feels tears welling in her eyes, so she goes into the house without saying anything. The saint bernard’s red collar sits on the kitchen counter, a rabies tag and a home address.

  
“Do you name any of them?” She asks when Mike insists on dragging her to the class anyway. The truck’s radio buzzes out the news between them.

  
“No.”

  
“Do you want to?”

  
“No.”

  
Nanaba turns away from him and looks out of the window; she doesn’t understand why that answer makes her want to cry again.

  
They make a cute loaf of cinnamon bread at the class. The saint bernard’s death is a weight on their moods, but working together for a goal unites them. The other daughters are all much younger children, so the instructions are tailored to their level of understanding, but Nanaba appreciates the simplified recipe.

 

  
.

 

  
When Mike has to go into the city that Saturday, she sits at the library and reads through a book that boasts of being a bread bible. There’s a certain birthday in a few days and she wants to do something special, but it still feels like a whole cake with decoration would be too far out of her skill range. Mike texts her and beckons her back to his work before she can finish the book, and she thinks about sliding it onto a red shelf, but she decides to check it out anyway in the hope that Mike won’t mind returning it later.

  
Mike is waiting in the truck for her, and when she slides up into her seat, he sets something heavy in her lap. The full weight of it surprises her when she picks it up the exam it, because it’s no wider than her finger. It looks like a large fish hook, but a smooth sphere sits on the point instead of something sharp for piercing. The shank is as long as her forearm, and the eye is bigger than her fist.

  
“When we get home. Put that in your dresser with your panties,” he tells her. A dark inkling breezes through her, but she’s too afraid to ask.

 

  
.

 

  
The high school is allowing students to dress up for Halloween so long as costumes fit the dress code. Nanaba hadn’t given any thought to it until Lynne sent her an inquiry the night before, but she has a pair of white cat ears from Halloween three years ago when she was Marie from _The Aristocats_. The saint bernard’s red collar is hanging on her doorknob, so she tells Lynne, _i’ll be a puppy._

  
Throughout the next day, Lynne tries to convince her to go to the party that one of the seniors is throwing. There’s going to be music and alcohol and fun, but none of those things interest Nanaba, not when there’s a weird hook in her bedroom that Mike told her to keep hold of. Gelgar is taking Lynne tonight, and they’re going to go _all the way._

  
“I mean, he’s like, fingered me or whatever, but that doesn’t count,” Lynne says excitedly. She stands by while Nanaba organises her locker at the end of the day, deciding what to take home. “We’re finally really having sex. He _even_ got a condom.”

  
Nanaba rubs her nose. Fingering counts, but she’s not going to tell her friend that. Her and Mike… that’s private. It’s not something she can talk about, not without getting him in trouble and her never getting to live with him again. “Okay.”

  
“Do you even like boys?” Lynne asks her suddenly.

  
Nanaba bites her lips together between her teeth and shrugs.

  
“Wait, Nan, are you…,” Lynne trails off, leaning in to whisper, “gay?”

  
All she can do is shrug again. “I don’t really think about that kind of stuff.” Which is not exactly a lie, because when she thinks about sex, all she sees is Mike behind her eyelids. He’s not a boy, he’s a man.

  
“OMG, Nan!” Lynne squeals. “You have to go to the party!”

  
“I don’t want to,” Nanaba says, shutting her locker. She bends over to zip her backpack and then hoists it over her shoulders when she’s upright once more. By then, Gelgar has finally shown up.

  
“Babyyy,” Lynne pouts, drawing out the last vowel. “Tell Nan she has to go with us tonight.”

  
Gelgar looks down at his girlfriend and then at Nanaba. “I dunno, babe, Nan’s a total straight edge.”

  
Lynne balks and slaps his shoulder. “ _Excuse me_ , she’s just sheltered. I bet she’s really fun at parties.”

  
“I’ve never been to a house party,” Nanaba says in her own defense. “It’s not really my thing.”

  
The brunette groans and grabs Nanaba’s hand, tugging it like a pouting child. “OMG, you totally have to come tonight! I want to see you have fun! Ask your godfather if you can go. Right now.”

  
“I’m not interested in going.”

  
“Don’t be a party pooper,” Lynne whines.

  
“Okay, fine! I’ll ask when I get home and then I’ll text you.” Nanaba is fed up with this. She just wants to get Lynne off her back. The whole walk home, she stews in frustration, alleviated only by Mike’s greeting kiss and unclasping of her bra. When he presses his nose into one of the cups, she forgets all about Lynne and her stupid house party.

 

  
.

 

  
It’s Gelgar asking her politely via text that makes her go to Mike. He sniffs out her apprehension and agrees to drop her off at Lynne’s house only if she’s absolutely sure that this is something she wants to do. She readjusts her ears and collar nervously but tells him that she wants to go.

  
The house party is in full swing by the time Lynne, Gelgar, and Nanaba walk there together from Lynne’s house. It’s dark and cold on the way, and she’s thankful that Mike draped one of his large sweaters on her shoulders before letting her leave. Inside the house, though, it’s hot enough to make her want to shed the extra clothing, but it feels like a layer of protection against the crowd of rowdy teenagers and young adults.

  
An eager host tries to persuade her for a cup of the bright red punch but she opts to get a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water from the tap. She watches the people around her move fluidly to the music, nonsense which sounds like bass accompanied by noise. After finishing her water, she puts her hands in her pockets and, startling, takes out the package she finds there. Ear plugs. Of course Mike would give her some.

  
Lynne and Gelgar disappeared together as soon as they were over the threshold, so Nanaba weathers through the party alone. A few guys offer to fetch her cups of the punch, but she turns them down.

  
After a long while standing in the kitchen, watching people slowly drink themselves into a state of dishevel, she wanders through the rest of the house. People are starting to split off into pairs and suck face, and there’s a few larger groups of people attempting games. In the dining room, a heated match of beer pong is nearing an end, all the bystanders looking half-drowned.

  
“Heyyy,” a guy slurs somewhere behind her, but she ignores it as she makes her way up the stairs, hoping to find her friends. All of the doors are shut and locked, so she goes back downstairs, luckily finding an empty armchair to sit in. When she pulls out her mobile, she’s surprised at the late hour.

  
_...this kinda sucks,_ she texts to Mike.

  
His reply is immediate. _Are you ready for me to come get you?_

  
_I’ll call you when i find lynne._

  
But when she does call him, it’s not because she found her friends; instead, it’s because some jerk didn’t like the way she turned down his advances and decided to slam her against the wall with his elbow in her chest. With everyone around drunk and engrossed in their own doings, Nanaba had been truly terrified that the aggression would go unstopped, but another stepped in.

  
“Mike,” she cries into her phone now, sitting on the street curb with the guy who pushed the jerk back and tucked her under his arm protectively. “Please, come and get me.”

  
His concern is sharp. _“What happened? Are you alone?”_

  
“I’m not alone… I’m scared, I just want you to come and get me.”

  
_“Who are you with? Is it Lynne?”_ At the question, Nanaba looks sideways at the heavily-decorated letterman jacket worn by her rescuer. Mike tolerates a moment of her silence before demanding, _“Let me speak to them.”_

  
Without a word, Nanaba passes her phone to the guy next to her, and he takes to the conversation with Mike in an informative tone. Turns out, she’s in the company of Hans Zoe, a senior, and this is his home and his party, and he’s deeply sorry that Nanaba was involved in an altercation. When he passes the phone back to her, Mike tells her, _“Stay put. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”_

  
She spends the short span of time talking to Hans. Tonight’s party is a subject of his social research for a paper he’s writing, so he’s been observing the crowd all night. He offers to call the police. She shakes her head. Everyone already saw what happened, she’s already embarrassed, so the last thing she wants to do is make a bigger deal out of it. Hans is kind yet blunt when he asks if he may include what happened to her in his writing later.

  
Nanaba looks at all the patches on his jacket, all academics-related awards, and she says, “Yeah.”

  
Mike pulls up along the street and gets out of the truck to hug her and she melts into his embrace, wanting so badly to kiss him, barely satisfied by the press of his lips into her hair. He helps her into the truck and then loiters to have a few quiet words with Hans.

  
“He’s a good guy,” Mike says on the drive back. His hands are stiff on the steering wheel and nowhere near her body. “Glad you weren’t alone. But I think it's best if you didn't go to anymore parties.”

  
There’s an undercurrent to what he says, but she doesn’t care to pursue it.

 

  
.

 

  
Despite staying up late to exhaust her emotions and tell Mike everything that happened at the party, and despite Mike telling her that she can stay home from school the next day, Nanaba climbs from his warm bed in early morning to let the dogs out and make the bread for his fortieth birthday. She wants to surprise him with it but he joins her in the kitchen as the dough is rising in a glass bowl on the oven, spoiling her plan.

  
Mike chuckles and pulls her into a tight embrace. “Thank you, Nanaba Rose. You’re the best girl I could ask for.”

  
She makes him two eggs over easy and slides them onto a piece of buttered toast, and it’s not fancy, but she makes it for him, and he thanks her with a deep kiss. The bread dough goes into the oven after she washes the dishes, and she sets a loud timer on her mobile for when it should be done.

  
“Lynne or Gelgar haven’t text me,” she says absently. It sort of bothers her. Maybe they heard from Hans that Mike came and picked her up, but why wouldn’t they message her themselves to make sure she’s alright?

  
“I’ll take your mind off that,” Mike tells her and she shivers at the low set of his voice. He pats one of his thighs and she sits without needing to be told. “You remember that hook I gave you?”

  
Nanaba swallows all the remaining melancholy from the party at the thought of the hook. Mike grins at her, pushes her bangs back from her forehead and kisses there, then kisses her nose, her mouth, her chin. He trails his lips along her jaw, the soft hairs of his beard tickling her and making her stifle giggles. At her ear, he breathily murmurs, “I’m going to watch you fuck your pretty little pussy with it.”

  
Nanaba whines, pressing her face into his shoulder. There’s a fierce rush of blood to her face and neck, hearing such sexy words coming from him.

 

  
.

 

  
He watches her with an intense focus that pushes her past her humility and makes her willing to do _anything_ to please him. Nestled in his bed, she obediently spreads her legs for him to insert the hook, letting him hear her every sound, freely giving him her moans. He wraps her fingers around the eye, gives her an order and she obeys, shyly at first until his flowing praises give her confidence. Her knees snap shut and her back arches off the bed when she orgasms, and Mike gently pries her open again to remove the hook, licking it clean with long laps of his tongue and she whimpers at how the sight makes her throb through the sensitivity. Somehow, she’s expecting it when he tells her to cum again for him, because once is never enough; when she can’t get herself to three orgasms, he takes over, wringing the pleasure from her body like water from a rag, so easily. Each time her vision explodes with shimmering gold, Mike removes the hook and licks it clean, groaning like it’s a blessing to taste.

  
Mike brings her to tears and then leads her further, until she’s crying that she’ll _die_ , that it feels good enough to kill her.

 

  
.

 

 

  
Hans seems to be everywhere in the school now that Nanaba knows who he is. Lynne brushes off her faux pas about not checking on Nanaba, Gelgar sheepishly apologises, but says that if she had her own boyfriend to go to parties with it would have never happened. At lunch, Lynne goes through the long list of what she deems are the eligible freshmen bachelors. However, Nanaba spots Hans’ auburn ponytail and dark blue letterman in the crowd, so she doesn’t hear anything Lynne says.

  
At Thursday’s cooking club, Hans pokes his head into the food science lab, the scent of chocolate chip cookies having lured him from the biology room down the hallway. Of all the people to pester, he comes to Nanaba, and Gelgar tries not to obviously watch as Hans snags a cookie with a roguish grin and departs.

  
“That’s that super smart senior, right? Did he come to see you?” Gelgar asks in awe. Nanaba is glad that Lynne isn’t here to give her disparaging insight. She’d probably say something about Hans pitying her for getting hurt at his Halloween party.

  
“He came for cookies,” Nanaba dismisses.

 

  
.

 

  
_OMG do u really think hans is into you??_

  
Nanaba groans at Lynne’s text. Gelgar must have told her. _no and i don’t care._

  
Lynne’s replies are usually quick, so when nothing comes for a few minutes, she is relieved and puts her mobile in her back pocket. She can see home coming nearer and she walks faster to get out of the chilly autumn air. It’s going to snow tonight. When Lynne replies, it’s a big text that fills Nanaba with dread. She waits until she’s in the warm house and kissed by Mike, tucked into his side on the sofa watching television before she reads it.

  
_uh yeah good bcuz he’s doing the thing where he graduates with his university degree and diploma at the same time, idk what that program is called. but he wouldnt have time for you and tbh he’s out of your league anyway :/_

  
She reads it twice and then taps Mike’s knee, wordlessly showing him. She doesn’t care about whether Hans likes her or not, but Lynne’s words hurt her. Mike doesn’t ask questions, only pulls her into his lap, her back against his chest, and fingers her until she can’t think straight.

 

  
.

 

  
She goes from no breasts to a-cups almost overnight, finally filling out her bra. Mike lavishes his attentions on them when she gets home from the last day of school before Thanksgiving break. There’s only an hour before they leave and as much as she wants to spend it in his bed, she acquiesces his order to get her things packed for the trip.

  
They drop the dogs off at a boarding kennel in the city before driving into the night to reach the Washington coast. Nanaba doesn’t know what she is expecting, but it is not the large pacific lodge sitting lakefront. They arrive at midnight to a quiet estate, greeted by a man of similar description to Mike. Awkwardly, Nanaba watches as the two embrace, complete with back slaps, and after they part, Mike is pushing her forward and introducing her.

 

  
.

 

  
The combination of sleeping in a new environment and sleeping without Mike makes her grouchy come morning. Mike’s mother, Adele, introduces her to everyone at the pancake breakfast but she only offers a half-smile on her way over to the children’s table. It seems like everyone her age has their mobile out at the table, something against the unspoken rule at Mike’s house, so she boredly looks into her breakfast with every bite. A few times, one of Mike’s sisters-in-law tries to persuade the teenagers to mingle, but it’s only met with eye rolling from the others. Nanaba can feel Mike’s stare in the fine hairs on her neck, and she can almost hear him scolding her in her head, _it’s up to you to be the mature one._

  
So, after breakfast, Nanaba voluntarily gathers the plates and takes them to the sink, inquiring to Adele what she can do to help. The pleased smile she receives gives her resolve.

  
The senior Zacharias parents are both dentists in private practice, and so the mundane household chores are given to hired help; but during the holidays when the house is full of their descendants, chores are meant to be a bonding experience. For Nanaba and Adele, it is. She learns that Mike is the oldest of four boys, all born in November, a year between each (and that he’s the only one unmarried and without children). Adele jokingly tells Nanaba that it took her longer than it should have to realise that she was doing something wrong to end up with her boys so close together. Adele also has stories of Nanaba’s father when he was a boy with Mike, how they were an inseparable pair for years and years. When one of the teenagers walks into the kitchen, Adele pauses the conversation to say, “Rico, sweetheart, can you get me the photo album with the green cover?”

  
Rico rolls her eyes but comes back a few minutes later, after the dishes are all finished, with the requested item.

  
Adele shares condolences for the loss of Erwin Smith, says that she loved him like another son, and shows Nanaba pictures of her father she’s never seen. Mike’s there, too, and so it’s twice as endearing.

  
“You look so much like him when he was this age. Mike loved your father very much, and I’m glad he’s honouring Erwin by taking care of you,” Adele says, and it twists a knife through Nanaba’s heart.

 

 

 

 

 

  
Adele allows each teenager a glass of wine at dinner, and then another during family games. Nanaba is genuinely having fun, and she loosely shows off for Mike, knowing that he’s keeping her within his peripheral vision at all times. After games, everyone settles into the movie den. The alcohol makes the sleepy mood so much more effective on her, and she excuses herself to bed just after the film’s opening credits. When she stumbles and trips through the doorway, Mike is quickly at her side, taking hold of her elbow and letting everyone know he’ll be right back.

  
They’re the only ones in the room she’s sharing with the other girls, so Mike makes quick work of licking his two longest fingers clean and slipping them down her pants, into her hot sex. One massive hand slaps over her mouth and Mike hisses, “Not a sound. I need to hear anyone getting close.”

  
He pumps his fingers in and out of her mercilessly, and in the pleasant haze of alcohol, she’s gushing cum down his forearm in just a few moments. He licks himself clean and kisses her cheek goodnight, turning off the light and closing the door on his way back to the movie. She feels wound up because he never gives her a single, solitary orgasm-- it’s always him taking her to the edge of control. Being left unexhausted is a first, she doesn't know how to feel about it.

 

  
.

 

  
They pack up to go home early on Saturday, both feeling content with the last several days filled by food and games and family time. Nanaba sleeps for most of the way back. It’s early afternoon when they get to the kennel and pick up the dogs, and dealing with nine excited canines helps dispel some of her restless energy.

  
At home in the quiet country forests, melancholy awaits.

  
.

 

  
“Wanna name them?” Mike asks, tilting his head toward the dogs as they wait patiently for Nanaba to finish filling their individual bowls with dinner.

  
She shrugs, silent for a long time. After she sets the bowls down in a neat line and the dogs begin to crunch the kibbles loudly, she finally says, “Sure.”

  
“I’m asking ‘cause,” but Mike stops and shifts, leaning against the kitchen counter beside her. “I thought… you might like one of your own, and I figured you’d name it, so… let’s name them all.”

  
“Together?” She asks quickly, hopefully. Immediately, she bites her lips between her teeth to stifle the grin. Mike only smiles at her.

  
“Together.”

 

  
.

 

  
Going back to school is difficult on Monday. There’s a hollowness in her chest that persists and drives her away from interactions with her peers, and at lunch time, she calls Mike to see if he will pick her up early because she doesn’t think she’ll last the whole day.

  
_“Be a good girl, stay for all of your classes.”_ There’s the sound of a circular saw piercing metal in the background. When he speaks next, his voice is low. _“I’ll make it worthwhile.”_

  
So, she stays, but she hates every moment of it, spends most of the afternoon daydreaming. At the end of the day, she passes Hans in the hallway and he waves at her with a beaming smile on his face, but she waves back much less enthusiastically. Over her shoulder, she hears Lynne scoff. Once they're at Nanaba’s locker, Lynne puts her hands on her hips and says, sternly, “He’s way out of your league, you know.”

  
“Shut up,” Nanaba snaps, slamming her locker door open against the front of its neighbour. “I don’t like him like that! People can be friends, _you know_.”

  
Lynne scoffs again, this time like a laugh, and walks away, throwing back a casual, “Whatever.”

  
Nanaba tries to hold in the angry tears but they’re too stubborn, so she dips her head and lets them soak into her shirt. Everything is overwhelming and she doesn’t understand why. All she can do is let it consume her, and when she comes home to nothing but wagging tails, she can’t help but throw herself on the sofa in a fit.

  
Turns out, she’s only beat Mike home by a couple of minutes because he was picking up dinner, yet he still apologises for his absence. Neat boxes of food sit on the table to patiently wait as he drapes a quilt over her shoulders and holds her to his chest, successfully coaxing all of her negative emotions out within an hour. Their food is cold by then, but they eat anyway without reheating it.

 

  
.

 

  
The rest of the week goes without incident. Lynne acts like nothing happened and Gelgar follows her cue, but Nanaba does not mind all that much. A winter storm is projected to roll in late Friday night, so Mike picks her up from school that afternoon and they go grocery shopping at the small store in the township instead of a supermarket in the city. The first flurries of snow are beginning to fall as they unload the bags from the truck, and after they put everything away, Mike takes her hand.

  
“Any homework?”

  
“Uh, no, no, I did it at study hour.” Nanaba watches the way a small grin parts his lips. “Why?”

  
“I was thinking we could spend a few hours in the work shed.”

  
Her heart thumps in her chest, nervous. She hasn’t been back since he showed it to her that first time, but still, she tucks her lips together and nods. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  
Mike pulls on a canvas coat and then drapes a thick wool sweater over her head, drags a space heater and extension cord from the hallway closet. The walk to the shed is short but freezing, and Nanaba is glad when Mike shuts the door behind them, turns on the fluorescent lights, and plugs in the heater.

  
“Nothing to worry about, long as the cable connecting us to the house’s power line doesn’t snap.” He gives her a reassuring kiss on the forehead then points to a five-gallon bucket in the corner. “You can sit on that, if you want.”

  
She does so. Mike wastes no time turning his attention to a project that looks to be partially complete, but she can’t really judge it because she’s not sure what it is. As he works, her gaze finds his hands and lingers.

  
She watches curiously, coming closer to inspect as time passes, but he only tells her exactly what he’s made when they’re back inside their home. Eagerly, she asks him to show her how the spreader bar is used.

 

  
.

 

  
“Nanaba?”

  
She looks up from changing out of her gym clothing to Lynne pointing at her inner thigh.

  
“What happened?”

  
“Oh.” Nanaba inspects her skin, feigning surprise at the large red bruise blooming up from her knee. “One of the dogs jumped on me.”

  
“No way, that looks like….” Lynne holds her fingers close to Nanaba’s thigh for comparison. “Nuh-uh, that’s a hand-- Nanaba, did he-- does he _hit_ you?”

  
She jerks away from her friend and shakes her head. “No, I’m serious. It was one of the dogs. It jumped on my bed and landed on me.”

  
Whatever belief Lynne pretends to have is proven false when Nanaba gets called to visit the school’s councillor from her last class of the day. There’s only ten minutes before the release bell, so she packs all of her things into her backpack, all too aware of the eyes on her, the curiosity as to _why_ she is being summoned.

  
“Miss Smith,” the councillor greets and extends a welcoming hand to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, sit.”

  
Nanaba refuses to be the first to speak. She feels betrayed and she knows exactly who to blame for this. Louder than the betrayal, fear screams at her. She’s afraid of saying the wrong thing, she’s afraid of slipping up and getting Mike in trouble, because it was Mike who bruised her thigh when he gripped it and hooked it over his shoulder, but he wasn’t hurting her when he did that, he was making her feel so good. But she can't tell anyone that, and she's terrified that she will have to let them assume Lynne was right.

  
Finally, the councillor offers, “Is there anything you would like to talk to me about? Anything going on at home?”

  
Nanaba bites her lips together and shakes her head, looking down in her lap. She just wants this to be over so that she can leave. But of course, the woman across from her wants to draw this out, wants there to be something admitted, as if by making this as painful as possible, she receives a sick self-fulfilment.

  
“Do you feel safe at home?” “Are you comfortable telling me?” “Would you like to have another adult in the room?” “If you’ve been told that you can’t tell anyone--”

  
“Nothing,” Nanaba rasps, refusing to look up from her lap, “happened.”

  
Nanaba only realises that she is crying when a manicured hand pushes a box of tissues within her line of sight, and that show of weakness has her standing, sends her roaring out of the office like a hellhound. On the way out, she slams the door hard enough that she hears the glass rattle.

  
Even though she practically runs the whole way home, Mike is waiting for her on the front porch, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a very unpleasant look across his face. The dogs rush down to swarm her, but he calls them back with a sharp whistle. They slink back up the steps and disappear inside.

  
“What the hell did you do?” Mike asks, his tone void of judgement, but it’s hard enough to make her cringe.

  
“Lynne, she--”

  
“You,” he interrupts. “I asked what you did, not Lynne.”

  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters.

  
“Well, we’re gonna.” Mike is down the steps in large strides, grabbing her upperarm roughly and dragging her to his truck, where he opens the door and throws her inside. She scrabbles against the passenger side door, her legs up on the bench between her and Mike. She’s not afraid of him; not even right now, with the anger rolling off his body is tangible waves. All she wants is space-- from him, from Lynne, from the councillor, from _existing._

 

  
.

 

  
Mike grounds her for her outburst at the school. He drags her to the councillor, who had called him when Nanaba left unexcused, and makes her apologise for her behaviour. He takes away what few privileges she has, and even though she initially expects to spend seven days miserable, she’s actually… grateful for the way it dispels her melancholy.

 

  
.

 

  
The week of her punishment comes to an end and Mike marks it by taking her to the work shed again. She watches him put the finishing touches on a muzzle; she patiently offers her head for his measurements and adjustments, biting her bottom lip to hide her curious enthusiasm. When it’s done, he fastens the straps around her head and pats her hair, crooning, “Good girl.”

  
They don’t stay in the shed for long. Mike tells her that he wants to run an errand in the city, wants her to come along, too. He lets her wear the muzzle the whole walk back to the house, and then she puts it in her dresser with the hook after he undoes the straps.

  
She stays muted as they walk along the kennels at the animal rescue, watching Mike’s back and following his sure lead. In front of a kennel at the end of its row, he stops and turns and motions with his hand for her to inspect. Two energetic sheepdogs prance in place as she glances over the information clipped to the from of their enclosure. Mike rambles, uncertain, “They’re a bonded pair so they have to go together, and they’ve been here too long because of that. Marlene called me about them. Didn’t want to see ‘em put down. I want them to be yours, and you can name them. We’ll name all the dogs, if you still want.”

  
“Yeah,” Nanaba says without turning to look at him. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

  
She knows how couples will often get a pet together when the relationship is serious. Mike hasn’t given them a label, only claimed her as _‘mine’,_ but she thinks, maybe, he’s trying to show her. Still, she can remember Lynne’s flippant _“fingering doesn’t count”_ and she suddenly wants something more.

  
It takes an hour to engrave all the name tags. Their newest additions, she calls Buns and Breadroll. Mike quirks an eyebrow at her but doesn’t crack any jokes, and then they decide on names for all the dogs waiting at home.

 

  
.

 

  
Over the week, she watches him adjust to calling them by names, and the dogs adjust to being called by names, more than whistles or a hand patting a thigh. The sheepdogs settle into the pack easily after a few shows of dominance. Christmas break comes closer and Mike still calls the wrong name from time to time, has to swear and kneel and get a look at the name tags before scratching the dog behind its ear and apologising. But, he’s trying for her, and that’s what she finds heartwarming.

 

  
.

 

  
Lynne hangs on Gelgar’s arm at the last cooking club before Christmas break. It’s a little annoying, but he doesn’t seem to mind having to explain things to her-- in fact, Nanaba thinks he might take some satisfaction from it.

  
“My parents are leaving me home alone while they go on vacation. They _finally_ decided that I can be trusted,” Lynne beams with devious excitement. “And OMG, and Gelgar is gonna come over and we’re going to have sex again.”

  
“Oh boy,” Nanaba says nonchalantly, washing out the pan she used to make her friend an omelette. She’s immediately distracted by the wonder why Mike hasn’t had sex with her yet, something apparent by the way Lynne waves a hand in front of Nanaba’s eyes to get her attention.

  
“Sorry, should I not talk about it in front of you? I mean, since you’re… you know, a virgin.”

  
Nanaba would like nothing better than to make Lynne eat those words, but she knows that a moment of pride is not worth all the trouble it would bring, so she only shrugs, “I don’t really care.” Because she _shouldn’t_ really care. She shouldn’t, because Mike kisses her forehead and says she’s becoming such a lovely woman and they got two new dogs together and named all the rest and why _should_ it matter if he hasn’t put his dick inside of her?

 

  
.

 

  
“Why haven't we had sex?” She asks on Christmas Eve, tucked into his side with the holiday edition of her favourite baking show playing on the television. They're bathed and dressed in pajamas already, but she wouldn't mind getting sweaty with him.

  
“There's no rush,” he says, sliding one large hand along her scalp and scratching it.

  
“But I haven't even seen your…,” Nanaba isn't brave enough to say it aloud, and in her head, she thinks about all the vulgar names for it.

  
“My what?” Mike teases, his hand now actively roughing up her hair.

  
She groans and covers her mouth and cheeks with her hands but he pries them back, pulls her into his lap by her hips and kisses her forehead.

  
“If you can ask me nicely, I'll let you see it.”

  
Nanaba looks at him and then hides her face in the side of his neck. Muffled, she exclaims, “I can't say it!”

  
“Be a good girl. Say: ‘Daddy, can I see your cock?’”

  
Hidden safely from view, she squeals in embarrassment and shakes her head, remembers the way she'd dared to call him _that_ in the lingerie store. Mike’s fingers are patient as they knead into her skinny bottom, and after a few deep breaths, she leans her lips against his ear and proves her obedience in a breathy whisper.

  
His dick, his _cock_ \-- it's big. Sex education teaches that penises are usually two to five inches long and not very wide, but she can't wrap her fingers around his girth and even with both hands on him, the head pokes out.

  
“It feels weird,” she giggles, not sure how to describe it. She bends over between his spread legs and gets a good look at the vein on the underside. “I thought it would be… slimy.”

  
Mike chuckles and takes control of her hands, moving her fingers up to the head of his cock and pulling back the thin skin to expose the shiny tip. “If I get hard, it'll get wet with precum.”

  
Her eyes widen and she blushes, but Mike is patient with her and shows her, his hands over hers, how to stroke a cock to make it hard. It gets bigger and she can't help but ask, “Would this… fit?”

  
“Inside of you, yes.” Mike touches her lips. “Here.” His hand travels down her front and presses against her sex over her pajamas. “Here.” And then it slides a little further back, between her butt cheeks. “And here.”

  
The last one causes her to pale.

 

  
.

 

  
When she goes back to school after the new year, they still haven't had sex, but she's becoming very familiar with his cock. She likes to touch it when it's hard, when it becomes hotter than any other part of Mike's body, and she likes the salty taste of the clear precum when it gathers. Mike explained that ejaculate tastes quite bad in comparison, and when she’d asked to have it regardless, he'd ruffled her hair and told her, “Let me make you something for taking my cock down your throat first.”

  
Thinking of his words at school sends shivers down her spine that pool in her gut all day long. It doesn't help that Lynne spends half of gym class going into vivid detail about her own Christmas break, so by the time Nanaba gets home that afternoon, she feels frenzied.

  
Nothing feeds that frenzy for a whole month. Mike takes her out more, daring to sit with her in restaurants and movie theatres, and while he still kisses her sweetly, he keeps his hands to himself. It feels like they're dating now, like a shift from lust to love; something fluffy that leaves her feeling warm and appreciated and cherished, something that satisfies her desire to know that he _wants_ her. This change, she feels like it fosters an intimacy between them, and she hopes that he feels it, too.

 

  
.

 

  
“It's a ring gag,” he explains early on a snowy Saturday morning. “I told you, my cum doesn't taste as good as yours. You're not gonna like it, but if you're gonna have _any,_ then you'll take _all_ of it.”

  
Nanaba folds the omelette in half as his threatening promise wriggles a pleasant, tight ball in her belly. When she goes to slide his breakfast onto his plate, she catches him watching her, no doubt waiting for her reaction to his promise, so she nods and tells him, “I’d like that.”

 

  
.

 

  
He handles her gently, pressing his fingers into her jaw lightly to have her relax, and then he lets her start in his soft cock. Mike coaches her through slow, unsure movements, tells her when the breathe to avoid feeling choked, tells her how to stifle her gag reflex when the tip pushes past her tonsils. She's sweating in no time, the combination of thrill and desire and new physical discipline mingling. Drool pools in the cavern of her mouth when the gag doesn't let her swallow it down, and it slides down her chin with a drag off his cock. She raises her hand to wipe it away but Mike grabs her wrist and entwines their fingers.

  
“It looks good on you,” he murmurs, cock twitching in her mouth. “God, you feel so good, Nanaba Rose.”

  
His compliment makes her feel vulnerable and proud, and she bravely takes down his whole length, daring to press her nose into the thick, silky hair at the base. Above her, he swears. Even though he said he would try not to get hard too fast, she can feel him rapidly swelling, and when she pulls back and lets him fall from her mouth, he's half-hard already. She safely goes slow, following the guiding press of his hand on the back of her head, remembering to breathe and stifle, and soon she is bringing him to climax.

  
Mike is right, his cum does taste terrible. Most of it, he sends straight down her throat, but he paints some across her tongue and face, making her sputter with the foul flavour, her stomach lurching to expel. Quickly, Mike relieves her, lapping his tongue onto hers to clean it, doing the same on her face. By the underarms, he pulls her up from the floor and onto his thighs.

  
“My good girl,” he coos, latching his teeth into her neck and then licking the tiny imprints. “Good girl, letting me fuck your pretty little face like that.”

  
When his nips turn into muscle-deep bites, she feels the eager heat rising up her spine, darting into her brain where it explodes into gold. With his rough fingers, he pushes her to cum over and over in the way that she craves; she _craves_ the way he exhausts her, melts her down and drinks her up.

 

  
.

 

  
They take turns giving and receiving pleasure, but they never take part together. She wants to have sex with him, but he said that there was no rush and that's exactly how he's acting. She does not want to be so patient, yet he forces it onto her and the boundary feels good.

 

  
.

 

 

  
The school year is coming to a close, prom being the last event before graduation, and Hans asks her to be his date. Initially, she feels terrible in accepting-- she just wanted something to rub in Lynne’s face, as prom is an event solely for upperclassmen and their plus-one, freshmen cannot attend otherwise. When she tells Mike what she's done, she hides her face behind her hands. But Mike coaxes her out of the insecurity and hugs her tight, tells her that going to prom will be a good experience for her, that he's happy she has a date that she can trust.

  
“When I talked to him on Halloween,” Mike says, following her between long rows of formal dresses, “I could tell he was a good kid.”

  
Hans says it is easier for him to match whatever colour she picks, so with Mike’s approval, she decides on a long tent dress made of extraordinarily pale blue satin. Mike uses her phone to take of a picture when she tries it on, and she sends that to Hans to let him know what colour she chose.

  
Instead of leaving the shopping mall like she expects, Mike takes them on a detour to one of the jewellers, parking her on a bench and promising to come right back. She has a clear view of his back and she can see the simpering expression of the saleswoman as she shows Mike something in a small case. He nods, accepts the neat foil package that she wraps for him, and shakes her hand. When he turns around to leave, Nanaba spies the remains of a smile on his face. As much as she wants to ask him about it, she wants to show off her new-found patience more.

 

  
.

 

  
On the first anniversary of her parents’ death, and she asks to go to the old house. There's hesitation before Mike agrees. A few families have come to look at the house but no offers have been made on it yet, and Mike wonders aloud, on the drive, if Nanaba wants to reconsider selling it.

  
This time, the panic does not overwhelm her. The dead air and the frozen memories don’t snake into her lungs and choke her with their nostalgia. She can do more than touch the spines of the family photo albums, she can take them down and walk them out to Mike’s truck. She opens the china cabinet in the dining room and blows the dust from her mother’s favourite set of teacups but leaves them hanging on their delicate hooks.

  
This time, the door of her bedroom does not petrify her with ignored grief. It still hurts to be face-to-face with the knowledge, but she has the strength to twist the knob and enter. This was her nursery as a baby, this has always been her room, but it does not feel like home the way that the room in Mike’s tiny house feels.

  
This time, she has the courage to stand in her parents’ room, to run her fingers over her mother’s jewellery and her father’s ties, to remember them wholly and let her love for them crawl out of the depths of her heart where she’s been hiding it.

  
When she comes full circle and turns to leave, Mike is leaning against the doorjamb watching her.

  
She speaks first. “It doesn’t hurt now.”

  
“I was worried,” Mike admits, and she finds a small thrill in having recognised that worry within him. She’s learning him, she’s finally understanding what all of his little tells proclaim. And it’s so strange, for _that_ to be the thing to overwhelm her and bring tears welling in her eyes. Mike is to her in a moment, cupping her face between his hands and searching her eyes for the answer that he needs.

  
“Fuck me,” she blurts, unsurprised with herself, wrapping her hands around Mike’s wrists. “Take it, take it.”

  
Mike leans in to kiss her slowly, keeping his eyes open and on hers as he does, and she watches him right back, refusing to stand down. She wants this, she wants to give it to him, she wants him to _take it._

  
“Okay,” he decides finally. His hands slide from her face to her shoulders and squeeze.

  
He doesn’t ask where or how she wants it. He takes the lead and she’s willing, she so willing to do whatever he asks of her that she doesn’t care when he pushes her down into her parents’ bed, she doesn’t care about anything as he moves inside her, as he _fucks_ her--

 

  
.

 

 

  
There’s a few hours between getting out of school and Hans coming to pick her up for prom, so she attends cooking club as usual. Lynne is hanging on Gelgar’s arm when Nanaba walks into the food science lab, pretending to ignore Nanaba like she's been doing for weeks now. In her head, she can hear Mike telling her to be the bigger person.

  
“I’m sorry,” she says, standing in front of her friends. It’s not clear what she’s apologising for, maybe even just for hurting Lynne’s feelings.

  
“It’s whatever,” Lynne dismisses, the closest she ever gets to accepting an apology. “It’s, like, fine since you have that ‘cute virgin’ thing going for you.”

  
“I’m not a,” she starts but snaps her mouth shut too late. Lynne’s jaw drops and Gelgar’s eyebrows raise, and Nanaba feels frustrated, she’s scared now. “I’m not cute,” she says instead, wanting to run and hide from the troubles she’s just created by speaking without thinking.

  
“Wait. Who did you have sex with?” Lynne hounds anyway, unwilling to let this information go without snatching.

  
“No,” Nanaba shakes her head. “I just meant, I’m not cute.”

  
She gives it a moment before she turns to go to her station, and as she turns her back, Lynne says, “Mike didn’t… hit you.”

  
Nanaba freezes for a moment, feeling all the eyes on the room on her, everyone now curious with what’s unfolding. This school is so small, everyone knows everyone and everything. Gossip burns like London.

  
“Oh, Nanaba,” Lynne murmurs, filled with pity.

  
“He never touched me,” Nanaba snaps. “He never did anything to me, Lynne, stop trying to make stuff up.”

  
“Oh my god, it was him,” Lynne breathes, clearly not believing Nanaba once again, and even though she would be correct, Nanaba will deny it until she dies.

  
“If you want to believe stuff that’s not true, be my guest.” Nanaba settles into her work station. She’s content to pretend that this didn’t happen, that the whole school won’t be on fire with a rumour that could end her life, but the frustration and fear manifests physically. She stubbornly wipes at the silent tears before they can leave trails on her cheeks.

  
The next time she looks up, Lynne is gone. Anxiety spikes in her chest, sends her heart into her throat. She has to leave, she can’t handle a confrontation with the councillor again. Rushing, she slings her backpack over her shoulder and makes a break for it. She doesn’t look down the hallway but she feels the fine hairs on her neck standing even before she hears the sharp, expectant, “Miss Smith!”

  
She doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back. She can claim she didn't hear it, but then Lynne’s loud mouth is begging, “Please, Nan, this is serious!”

  
The doors to the parking lot are just ahead, and she’s intent on running away, when hands grasp her shoulders. Her first instinct is to push away the unwelcome touch, but then Hans is crooning, “Hey, talk to me.”

  
She twists in his grip and pushes her whole body into his arms, too afraid to care, too desperate to say anything coherent. Hans shucks his letterman and drapes it over her shoulders like he did at the party.

  
“Nan, tell the truth,” Lynne demands when she catches up to them. “Did Mike make you have sex with him?”

  
“No!” She shouts, can’t hold it back.

  
“Miss Smith, there’s no need to shout--”

  
“NO!” She screams then, muffled by Hans pressing her against his chest. She’s working up into a panic, but she doesn’t fight him.

  
“You said you're not a virgin now. Who was it? Who?” Lynne insists like a barking dog and Nanaba wants to hit her until she bleeds for causing all this trouble.

  
“Me,” Hans says, stroking the back of Nanaba’s neck convincingly. “It was me. Now, I’d really appreciate if you leave Nan alone about it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. love, out, running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so this is where you are  
> and this is where i am  
> so this is where you are  
> and this is where i've been  
> somewhere between unsure  
> and a hundred  
> [listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjP2TGL-srY)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would rather see Nanaba move on and become an independent adult, this is your ending. For the dark ending, continue to chapter four after this one.

  
  


Nanaba leans her head back until it rests against Mike’s shoulder and then she turns her face slightly to nuzzle into his neck. His hands continue to elicit breathy sighs as he washes her body, the callouses scratching her in so many sensitive places. He washes her hair, gentle in the way he turns her head about, and when they get out, he dries her, covers every inch of her with scented lotion, brushes out her damp hair. She stands naked while he puts on his clothes, fruitlessly hoping that he will not force her to go to prom after all. Just the sight of the gown makes her upset all over again.

 

“You’re mine,” he reminds her after he’s buttoned up the collar of her dress. “Nanaba Rose, there is nothing shameful in our secrets, and one day, it won’t be a secret anymore.”

 

“I know,” she says. Mike’s been reminding her all afternoon. “I just… when Lynne, she’s so nosy, I don’t… I wanted to be friends with her, for you, because of you and her dad, but, I don’t want to be, anymore. And I know that we have to keep this a secret, but I… I don’t want people to think I slept with Hans. They’re going to call me a slut.”

 

Mike is quiet behind her for an unnerving pause, and then he comes around to face her, holding her pair of shoes for tonight. In a stern rumble, he tells her, “Look at me.”

 

She does, her eyes darting up from the mary janes in his hands and to his face. As Mike goes to kneel, he keeps their gazes locked. 

 

“Nanaba Rose, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there to protect you.” He holds one shoe out for her, and finally she breaks eye contact to slide into the shoe. The same for the other. “Put this behind you. Hold your head up. Be proud. Go and have fun tonight.”

 

Tears instantly well in her eyes. “But, I don’t want to go.”

 

“It’s all you can do right now,” he tells her, and it’s so stern that she tucks her lips between her teeth to stifle her cries. He rises and cups her round cheeks and kisses her nose. “Shhh, baby girl. You're gonna have a good time. In September, no one will even remember this.”

 

“How do you know that, huh?” She whines. Her face is scrunched and ugly with crying, she can feel it. 

 

“It's high school,” Mike says like that's the only explanation she should need. “It's all drama, one thing after the other. The only thing that will matter in five years are your friends.”

 

“This is so stupid,” she murmurs and swats off his touch, buries the heels of her palms in her eye sockets. She scrubs them over her face in frustration.

  
  


.

  
  
  
  


It’s an awkward slow dance. Nanaba tries not to look at all the people around them, to see the accusative glances. She fidgets with the ring on her finger and focuses on staying in step with Hans. Afterward, they take a terrible prom photo, standing facing one another and clasping hands, and she tries not to think about the rumours.

 

Hans’ attention is split between her and their surroundings, probably observing the behaviour of their peers, and it helps her feel less conscious, until he curiously asks, “He... gave you that ring?”

 

“Oh.” Nanaba fists her hands and twists the band until the stone is hidden in her palm. “Yeah. It’s alexandrite, since I was born in June.”

 

“A birthstone ring, huh?” Hans asks, too knowingly, and that makes her blush. “It’s a good cover.”

 

“When did you know?”

 

“At Halloween, I suspected.” Hans scans the dance floor before turning his imperceptive gaze solely onto her. “He looks at you, he talks about you, like a lover, not a father. Oh, well, I mean, there’s the different kinds of love. Like, perhaps, he would be possessive-- there’s a possessive father, and then there’s a possessive lover, in terms of behaviour, yeah?”

 

Nanaba pauses to let his words sink in but most slide off her back. “Yeah?”

 

“Well,” Hans says, settling in close to her, illustrating his point with his hands. “He said ‘she’s  _ mine _ to care to for’ and yeah, that could just be taken as-is, but he had aggressive body language, not like a father might.” 

 

“Okay.” Nanaba looks away for a moment, trying her hardest not to smile at the mental image of Mike being protective of her like that.

 

“Yeah, so, he-- Mike, he was,” Hans trails off for a moment in thought, “very… like a lion guarding a kill, like ‘this is mine and no one else can take it.’ Which, like, yeah I totally get that.”

 

Nanaba shrugs her shoulders.

 

“Does it… bother you? That I know.” Hans steps back but turns toward her fully. 

 

“Yeah,” she says without hesitation, then wants to take it back, but Hans reassures her with an arm snaking around her shoulders. “Sorry, it’s nothing personal.”

 

“Yeah, I know, this is super illegal and he’d go to prisoner forever; I know it’s scary but I’m serious.” Hans squeezes her into his side and leans his head on top of hers. “I will never tell anyone, ever.”

 

“Thank you,” she murmurs. 

 

“Now, don't be so glum,” Hans says just as an upbeat song starts up. His hands find hers and he laces their fingers together, raising them in a shimmy. “Let’s dance, lover.”

  
  
  


.

  
  
  
  


Hans brings her home by midnight, just like Mike told him. He hugs Nanaba tight and tells her to text him anytime, and she promises to do so. She likes Hans, in the platonic way. He knows a lot, and he’s accomplished a lot, and most importantly, he’s nice to her. 

 

Mike waits on the porch for her but he doesn't follow her into the house. He's still sitting on the same step when she comes back in her pajamas, so she invites herself into his lap. The night sky is clear, the moon and all its stars are bright enough to cause shadows-- bright enough to show her the shadows under Mike’s eyes.

 

“Goodnight,” she whispers into the cocoon of his arms.

 

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmurs with a kiss to her hair. 

  
  


.

  
  


_ i need a ride to the city, _ Lynne texts on Tuesday morning. Nanaba ignores it and continues walking to school. It’s the final day of classes, and Mike has a surprise for her tonight.

 

Thinking of the city reminds her that Hans invited her to come to his university graduation. He has one summer course to finish so that he receives his bachelor's degree, and there are administrators that he wants to introduce her to. She’d asked how she could earn a letterman jacket as decorated as his own, and he’d smiled and promised to present her to someone that can make it possible.

 

Lynne corners her right outside of home room. It’s been four days but Nanaba’s heart thumps instantly with anxiety. “Hey, I texted you.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Last week’s pain is still fresh in her nerves. Nanaba tries to step around her but when Lynne steps into the way, she inhales deeply and asks, “What is it?”

 

“I need a ride, but you can’t tell anyone.” Lynne raises her eyebrows, an expectant pinkie finger between their chests. Just like that, as if she’s never caused Nanaba any trouble or made her cry or put her in danger.

 

“Okay, fine, I won’t tell anyone.” Nanaba rolls her eyes but pinkie promises anyway.

 

“I just need a ride to and from my doctor’s office.”

 

“Why can’t your parents take you?”

 

“Umm,” Lynne drawls. She pauses for a moment and then decides to divulge the information. “My parents don’t know I’m sexually active and they don’t want me to get birth control, but, like, IDK, I’m obviously lying about being a virgin so I just wanna make sure I don’t get, ya know, knocked up.”

 

“You’re getting birth control?”

 

Lynne shushes her violently and pushes her further away from the door as several of their peers squeeze past them. “OMG, shh!”

 

“Okay, fine, I’ll ask Mike,” Nanaba grumbles. 

 

“Don’t tell him why, though, okay?” 

 

“Okay,” Nanaba agrees. Lynne smiles at her and pulls her into a tight embrace, snaking her strong arms around Nanaba’s middle and making her squeak uncomfortably. 

 

“Thank you, Nan,” Lynne whispers, and then they enter homeroom together. 

 

Nanaba calls Mike at lunch, since he's picking her up after school and it’d be easiest to head straight to the city, and when he asks why Lynne needs a ride, she does not hesitate to tell Lynne's secret. His answer is a swift negative; it makes Lynne grovel to Nanaba in the hopes that she'll eventually get her way. After a steady stream of denial, Nanaba actually begins to feel like they’re maybe a little bit even now. Lynne won’t be upset for too long, she hopes. They’ve had their ups and downs, and if Lynne is upset, she can redirect her anger at Mike, anyway. It is his decision. Besides, Nanaba thinks, maybe she should respect for her parents’ authority, because at least she still has them around.  

 

She returns her textbooks in exchange for her final report card, during which the librarian compliments her ring, inquiring the meaning of such an interesting stone. It leaves her feeling out of sorts for a moment before she can relax enough to explain the birthstone. It makes her think of Hans, of him telling her it's a good cover story, and when the librarian believes her, she feels a twinge of guilt for lying. 

 

Mike is waiting for her in the parking lot, and he takes the report card that she offers without opening it. He levels his serious gaze on her. “Let's make a deal.”

 

She bites her bottom lip before asking, “What kind of deal?”

 

“For every ‘A’ you got, I'll let you pick one thing to buy, but only if all your grades are passing.”

 

“Okay but what store?” Nanaba draws one leg onto the bench, tucking it beneath her so that she can face him entirely. She leans forward and settles her hands on his thigh. “Where are you taking me?”

 

“That place you been eyeballing,” he smirks. “That cooking supply warehouse.”

 

She grins wide. “And I can pick anything I want?”

 

“If  _ all _ your grades are passing,” he stresses, then holds out his hand, which she readily shakes, all smug satisfaction. She gets to choose six things, narrowly missing the last two grades by just a few points. Still, there's so much at the warehouse, and six items feels impossibly small in comparison. 

 

It’s that night, after she oils the cast iron skillet and sets it upside down in the oven, that she trusts Mike with her secret jealousies and desires.

 

“It’s good to wanna accomplish that,” Mike tells her. He leans back against the kitchen counter that she is sitting on, resting his spread hand on her thigh. “I had a letter jacket in high school. Ma probably has it, still.”

 

“What for?” She leans forward, interest piqued and burning. She imagines wearing Mike’s jacket, the year on the shoulder predating the one of her birth, and it feels like a scandal waiting to happen.

 

“JROTC.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You were thinking a sport?”

 

Nanaba shrugs and pushes her bangs sideways out of her eyes. “I guess.”

 

“That was your dad’s thing.”

 

“Yeah, and Mom was a cheerleader-- they were typical sweethearts or whatever.” 

 

Mike turns his gaze onto her and she bites her bottom lip between her teeth at the intensity of it. When his hand squeezes her thigh, she lets her eyes rest there instead. “What about you, Nanaba Rose, what’ll you be?”

 

She shrugs again, suddenly sour. “Maybe everyone will remember me as the slut.”

 

“Hey now.” He twists to slide between her knees, pushing them open to accept him, and though he is only cupping her cheeks to make her look at him, her mind flashes with the heated memory of Mike sliding between her legs and inside of her, their bodies sweaty and mingling and one.

 

“What,” she mumbles, trying to avoid his eyes until he tilts her chin upward.

 

“You’re gonna get rid of that idea right now. No one will care, not even in a week, let alone after summer break.” A kiss on her forehead before he lays his own against it. “You’ll get that letter in family science and whatever else you put your mind to. You got your dad’s spirit. And I’ll do everything I need to, to guarantee that you get more letters than your jacket can hold.”

  
  


.

  
  


The first day of summer break, she finds the property perimeter and follows it all the way around to where it deposits her on the main road into town on the far side, four miles from the house. She follows the road past the corner grocery store, the high school, the CVS, toward home, where a pack of rescues rushes her as soon as she comes into view. Mike’s truck is parked off to the side. It feels like the same routine of a school day.

 

He’s stretching out on the sofa, reading, when she comes in through the mud room, opening his arm to beckon her join. “Where’d you go?”

 

“I followed the property markers all the way.” She doesn’t realise how tired she is until she presses down into Mike’s side. “My birthday’s in a couple weeks.”

 

“Fifteen already.” Mike’s arm loops around her so that he can settle his hand along the side of her head, twining through her hair. 

 

“You’ll be forty-one this year.”

 

“Mhm.” He puts his book face-down on the arm of the sofa. With his newly free hand, he takes her left, spreading the fingers and toying with the ring on her middle finger. “Ma called while you were out.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Nanaba scoots in closer.

 

“She wants us to come for fourth of July this year. She’s having a big party for her and Dad’s anniversary.”

 

“They got married on fourth of July?”

 

“Yeah. Free fireworks.” Mike scratches at her scalp. “I got a ton of vacation days from work I can use, if you wanna go.”

 

“I wanna go... but what if we don’t? What if we just stay here and you take time off?”

 

Mike growls and tugs her hair. “Then you won’t leave my bed for seven days.”

Nanaba squirms, presses her knees together and releases a shuddered breath at the wet heat that blooms between her legs. 

 

“You like that.” Warm breath fans over her neck, a tongue chasing its path. “You wanna be used over and over again. You wanna to be my little slut.”

 

She can barely whine out, “Don’t call me that.” It lacks any conviction.

 

He can tell. “Really, don’t call you my little slut? When you’ve got that greedy little pussy? Baby girl,” he coos with deceptive concern. 

 

Knees press together hard enough to bruise, and her cunt draws up tight on its own. Speaking is not safe. She shakes her head. That slur made her red with shame when spoken by her peers, but Mike makes her red with a different kind of embarrassment, and right there on the living room floor, he shows her exactly how true his words are.

  
  


.

  
  


For her fifteenth birthday, they go into the city and get a booth in a dim corner of a burger joint next to the movie theatre they'll go to afterward. He orders a beer with his dinner and lets her taste some, smirking at the way she scrunches her nose, before taking a long drink of it himself. 

 

“You liked that wine Ma gave you.”

 

She shrugs, barely recalling that flavour outside of strong and distinct. “Yeah but beer tastes too, I dunno, like soggy toast.”

 

“Oh,” Mike chuckles. “Guess I gotta you find something sweet.”

 

“I guess.” 

  
  


.

  
  


Adele hugs her tight when they arrive so late at night. The next morning, Nanaba gets up early to help with the pancake breakfast, excited to show off some of her skills. She successfully impresses Adele, who raves to everyone entering the kitchen at what a joy Nanaba is.

 

“You’re so much like your father. He was always a helpful boy.” Adele sighs with a smile while Nanaba voluntarily scrubs dishes and Mike’s sisters-in-law complain about their own leeching teenagers. “You have so much of his spirit.”

 

“Mom used to say the same thing,” Nanaba says absentmindedly. It's still hard to allow herself the memories, though it doesn't actively hurt the way she expects it to. 

 

“Women always want their children to embody the one they've beared them for. Or, at least, I always did.” Adele smiles fondly and runs a hand through her cropped hair. 

 

Nanaba thinks of Mike’s tenderness and imagines the impossibility of him having a wife and family; it's an image she destroys every piece of. “Did you get your wish?”

 

“No,” Adele chuckles. “But they turned out alright.”

  
  


.

  
  


Nanaba swallows too much lake water when they all go swimming and the resulting illness knocks her on her butt for the entire next day. The brothers and their wives and their children all escape for a movie and ice cream as planned. She stays back, and so do Mike and his father. 

 

Mr Zacharias still intimidates her with his stoic silences and sparse words. She gets up from her fever bed and trudges to the kitchen with a fluffy comforter sliding behind her, but she stills when she hears two voices in the kitchen.

 

“... thought you'd never get over Erwin.”

 

“Had to. He got married, Pa. Had a kid.”

 

Nanaba grimaces but stays where she's at as if by some masochistic force. This is not for her to hear but she can't stop herself from listening. 

 

“But don't you think you should find a good man to help raise that girl? She needs that influence of a stable relationship or else she’ll never understand how to have one.”

 

“She can have whatever she likes, I don't mind much, ‘cause I know she's too smart to get involved with some shitbag guy.”

 

“I know you're holding onto whatever piece of Erwin you can keep, but you need to put her first. You told us she was going to live with you, and I thought for sure that you'd start dating, maybe try and make a new family for her.”

 

“Erwin and Marie raised her for almost fourteen years. She don't need a second family.”

 

“And you think you know what she needs? Did you ever ask her, Mike? Do you ever ask her if she's happy? She just looks so sad.”

 

Silence. The clock on the wall clicks. Then, just as she's about to enter the kitchen and interrupt, Mike surrenders a defeated, “No.”

 

“Look. You're doing alright, but you need to consider what's best for her. Living out in the country, that was you and Erwin’s thing when you were kids, and I'm glad you could have it when you got back. But, Michael, consider what you can do that gives Nanaba the best opportunity. You want to be a parental figure, then make some sacrifices.”

 

Nanaba picks up her comforter trail and goes back to bed, thirst unquenched. 

 

She's replaying the overheard snippets for the tenth time when Mike knocks on the door to the girls’ room and waits for her permission to enter. He offers a glass of water, as if he'd sensed her thirst and sought to meet the need. She drains it. 

 

“You feel better?” He puts his hands in his jean pockets. 

 

“Yeah, I’m starting to.”

 

“You look better,” he says. 

 

“Because I feel better, yeah.” She plans to keep the secret of her eavesdropping but it's so overbearingly awkward between them, she blurts, “You and Dad were a thing?”

 

“Thought I smelled you wandering around,” Mike murmurs and she flushes deeply. 

 

“ _ Were _ you?”

 

Mike sits beside her in the bed. “When we were real young. It was a childhood crush.”

 

She feels pitted, like he's gorged out her center and left her hollow, but that masochistic urge only hums louder. “So… you were together?”

 

Mike gives her a long, serious look before he turns away and nods. “Your grandparents, they were good folks, but they said we were inappropriately close, we must've been eleven or twelve. Erwin went away for the summer and when he came back, it wasn't the same.”

 

“You loved him,” she whispers. It shouldn't feel like betrayal but she feels split in half under the glare of this revelation. She feels like a replacement, like a lie, like a fool. 

 

“Nanaba Rose,” Mike croons, leaning over and resting his forehead on the bed next to her hand. 

 

She pushes him away and sits up, ignoring the dizzy wave. “And me, I'm just, you're using me to hold onto him.”

 

“I know you're young and you've never been in love before,” Mike starts and she feels a wash of anger that he would patronise her this way, “but things aren't so simple as you think.”

 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Her voice shakes to maintain a whisper. 

 

He says nothing, reaching for her hand and lacing their fingers, kissing her ring. She wants to vomit and run away and never live another day. 

 

“Did you ever mean any of it? Were you just using me?”

 

“No,” Mike snaps. “I meant everything. I loved him then and I love you now.”

 

“Then why didn't you just tell me the truth?”

 

Mike stares at her and she stares back, until the tears well enough to overflow. 

  
  


.

  
  


That night, she sleeps like the dead and when she wakes before sunrise, the illness and anger have passed. The house is quiet and so are her feet. The lake glistens, ripples, beckons. She dips her toes and thinks of her parents. It's the anniversary dinner today, and then they'll watch fireworks out on the pontoon. She thinks of her parents’ last anniversary. She thinks about Mike and the photos Adele gave her. She reanimates the memories, imagines Mike in high school alongside her father, imagines herself in her father’s place, but all it does is make her stomach sink. Twenty-five and a half years between them. She is a fool. 

 

At breakfast, she thinks about coming out and spilling her secrets, but it's a petty desire. There's nothing to gain from exposing Mike. He avoids sitting next to her and eats standing in the kitchen, out of her line of sight. He avoids her the rest of the day, too, and she pretends it doesn’t matter.

 

The sisters-in-law orchestrate dinner preparations so that everyone helps, except the guests of honour. Mike takes a place at the island next to Nanaba and they cut fruits and vegetables for their respective salads. Their elbows brush every so often, and at one point, he nudges his foot against the side of hers. She leans a little heavier than necessary into his side, forgiving him. She's not over it, far from peaceful about it, but she knows she doesn't want to break off their relationship, so she thinks that there's no point in being pissy about it. That’s too immature.

 

The dining room table has another small one pushed up against it so that everyone can sit together, and she's quietly thrilled when Mike throws his arm over the back of the chair next to his and pats it. As platters and serving plates circle the table, Mike serves them both, and when he pours himself a little sangria, she gets some without question. It's so sweet that she hardly tastes the alcohol, but she definitely feels it when she stands after dinner. Instead of helping with dishes, she curls up in her dining chair, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms tightly to ward off the dizziness. 

 

Mike comes to check on her, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his hands warm and damp. He touches her forehead as if to gauge her temperature, and she loses herself for a moment, butting her head further into his grasp, turning her nose up to press into his palm. There's a momentary flash of fear for both. Her, for the intimacy spoken of her action. And he's looking at her like he's afraid she's lost the entire of her filter. 

 

The tension is broken when Adele joins them not a moment later, laughing cheerfully at their display. “Oh, dear, Nanaba, was it too much for you tonight?”

 

She closes her eyes and smiles and nods once. When she looks back up at Adele, the woman pats her cheek with soft affection. 

 

“I'll get her some water,” Mike offers. Adele sits with her until he returns and when she passes behind Nanaba on her way out, she grips the girl’s shoulder. 

 

The pleasant haze passes after some cake and ice cream, and she's got a little headache by the time they all load onto the pontoon. She lays on her back along the arm of the craft, and she can feel Mike’s watchful eye as he keeps tabs on her wellbeing. Everyone's chatting and having a good time, and eventually the fireworks drown it out with their booming. 

  
  


.

  
  


It's never quite the same after that. 

 

Mike’s house feels too quiet after a week with his family. She doesn't get out of bed before lunchtime most days, and by that point, he's usually only halfway through work. She doesn't pester him with messages. She doesn't text anyone. She settles into teenage laziness too harshly, and she thinks belatedly, that it's not laziness at all, but rather depression. 

 

Mike’s family thinks he's still gay; or maybe he is gay, and Nanaba is the exception, or maybe he's bisexual, or maybe his desire will wane when her womanhood becomes too loud to be muted. For whatever reason, she can't ignore the festering betrayal that zaps the colour out of her life. 

 

Breadroll hardly leaves her side during the day. The sheepdog looks at her and whimpers, nudging at her hand as if to go outside but refusing to go when Nanaba hauls herself from bed and opens the door. 

 

Mike picks up on it as well, and when he encourages her to spend a day with Lynne, she only comes home feeling worse than before. Gelgar broke up with Lynne, and she’s dyed her hair black and listens to emo music and talks about how shitty it is to be alive. Mike doesn't bring up Lynne for the rest of the summer. 

 

Several times, Nanaba finds her thumb hovering over Hans’ number but she refrains from pestering him, too. He's busy, he's got his education to worry about, he doesn't need a kid with stupid questions distracting him. 

  
  


.

  
  
  


“Alright, you've moped around enough.” Mike leans against her doorjamb, all a stubborn act because she denied him when he knocked and he's only respecting that boundary  _ physically. _

 

“I'm not getting up.” She pulls the covers up around her ears and rolls to present her back. “Just go away.”

 

“C’mon, baby girl, I'll make it worth your while,” he tries to persuade. 

 

She doesn't answer, doesn't turn to look until she hears his footsteps venture away from her door. Biting her lips between her teeth, she throws her covers back and rolls from bed, sidestepping her loyal sheepdog on the way out. Carefully, she creeps around the corner, expecting to see him idle in one of the living areas of the house. Hands squeeze her shoulders and she squeals when she's lifted and tossed into a fireman’s carry over bulky shoulders. 

 

“Mike!”

 

“Caught you.” 

 

“No!” She whines loudly. “Put me down!”

 

“Nah.” He slaps her bottom. “Now, quiet.”

 

He takes them out onto the porch and ducks to roll her down. She watches from where she’s been set on the stairs as he pulls his shirt off. 

 

“Get undressed, baby.” 

 

She is slow to match him, slow to please, expecting something she doesn’t want. Instead of sex, he sits on the porch step behind her, tucks her against his chest, and sets his chin in her hair. For a few blissful minutes, there's nothing but the buzzing cicadas and Mike’s heart pounding through her, begging hers to sync, and then she realises that this must have been his intent. He's drawing her up from the rocks of a dry well with his skin on hers on a hot summer’s evening and it reminds her that she is  _ alive _ . 

  
  


.

  
  


School comes again before she's ready. It's been a lazy summer spent cooking and eating, reading or watching television, fucking. It’s closing on a grumpy note. The wild hormones that she’s used to are being evened out by birth control and her body adjusts with a ruckus of protest, but feeling cum drip down between her bruised thighs for the first time makes it all worthwhile.

 

She squeezes in two family science electives during the school’s zero hour, rounding out her schedule with ten courses instead of the usual eight. It’ll be another rough adjustment, but remembering Hans’ letterman drives her resolve. Getting to see his college graduation left her motivated. Now, he’s moved to the city with a graduate program and she won’t see him sneaking around through cooking club and snatching snacks. And she sincerely hopes that Mike is right, that no one remembers the gossip, the rumours.

 

Her first class starts around the same time Mike leaves for work, so he decides to drop her off every day. They’re just settling into that routine when Lynne texts her and offers, as a newly licensed driver, to drop her off at home every afternoon. It feels like a truce.  

 

“That’s what we oughta do,” Mike says over dinner. They eat earlier now, like senior citizens. She jokes that she’ll serve stewed prunes one of these days. “Get your learners’ permit.”

 

.

  
  


Mike helps her prepare for the autumn state competition with as much dedication as she needs from him. Her family science professor gives her an idea of what to expect for when she competes in both food and homecare categories. Mike is tireless in providing her with feedback and practice, and she comes back with two silver medals, second places. 

 

It’s a long weekend away from him and when she gets back in the early depths of Sunday morning, she tucks into his side and spreads her legs for his prodding hand on the drive home. 

  
  


.

 

She orders the letterman jacket in November and receives it in January. It feels good and heavy, fills her with pride as she wears it the remainder of the school day and surprises Mike that afternoon with its arrival. He fingers the patches on her sleeve, praising her, reminding her of what a wonderful job she did back in October when she earned it. 

 

Life is good and steady and stable. She's comfortable with Mike, living under his commanding hands. Perhaps, she never wants to live any other way. 

 

.

  
  


Learning to drive Mike’s truck usually ends in something entirely different, but she accumulates the necessary practice hours to get her license on her sixteenth birthday. She takes the crappy DMV photo wearing her letterman even though she's sweating while wearing it.

 

Lynne goes with her and hugs her after she steps away from the blue wall, almost knocking Nanaba over in her own glee, though Mike grips her shoulder to keep her upright. His hands are quick to pull away. In a place like this, he's quick to distance them, and even though it should be something she is used to by now, she has to soothe the sting.

 

Back at home, she takes the dogs out. It's been a whole school year but she doesn't know where the time has gone. It's gone  _ somewhere, _ because she looks at her sleeve, and under her graduation year are the two letter patches for family science. She has studied and worked hard for nearly a year, but now, she can hardly recall doing so. 

 

There are times she is almost sure that she didn't exist if Mike wasn't touching her. 

  
  


.

 

“We’re like a married couple,” Mike says one summer night in his work shed. 

 

“I guess,” she replies, delighted to still get butterflies after this long. Nanaba never wants to lose the feeling. Their life has a routine of dates, household tasks, sex, and genuinely given affection that makes her feel cherished and safe, and to be married to him would change nothing between them, but instead show everyone who she proudly belongs to. “Will we make it official… one day?”

 

Mike grins and looks over at her. “Yeah.”

  
  


.

  
  


Thanksgiving of junior year, they go visit the family as usual. She drives part of the way there and Mike’s hand doesn't leave her thigh, high on the inside, nothing teasing about the touch but she feels desperate nonetheless. When she passes a sign for a rest stop, she turns on her blinker and takes the exit, drives through the whole lot to find a secluded corner that street lights won't illuminate. There was school today so they couldn't leave until after, and it's seven hours from Montana to the Washington coast, so night is settling well. 

 

She wore the muzzle for him last night, figuring it'd be the last time they get to fuck for the weekend, but it's not enough, not when she's in the peak between her period, when the seam of her jeans have been rubbing against her for two hours. 

 

Mike’s hands hover at her hips as she swings her legs around to straddle him. “Baby girl, what do you need?”

 

“You,” she purrs and presses her face into the curve where jaw meets neck. “I need a little more before we get there.”

 

But instead of indulging her in her desire, he moves her out of his lap. Sternly, he tells her, “No. Wait until we’re back home.”

 

Regardless of her pouting, Mike does not go back on his word.

 

At family dinner, his brothers nag him about finding someone to settle down with, and even though she knows he's lying, hearing him say he's not interested in commitment hurts her. Nanaba's stormy emotions are obvious to him and so he sinks inside of her at the first rest stop, and every single one to follow, on their way back home. 

  
  


.

  
  


Hans is in town for Christmas and it’s the first time he sees her in over a year. She wears her letterman because even though she sent pictures to him, it doesn’t compare to real life. When he insists she twirl under his hand, she obliges and laughs, feeling so light and free with his support, and she wonders why she’s been avoiding him for so long.

 

They get back in touch after that, and he helps her rekindle her friendship with Lynne and Gelgar. 

 

“I worry about you isolating yourself.” Hans grips her shoulder and lets his hand slide down the sleeve over the patches, then slots his fingers between hers. “You've heard of codependency, right?”

 

.

  
  


A mild anxiety is reborn in the autumn of her senior year of high school-- has it really come so fast? All anyone wants to know is,  _ where are you applying for school? _ There’s no regard for what she wants, if she wants to stay here, because it is simply expected that she will pursue other things, because it’s something that will make her  _ dead  _ parents proud, for her to be a successful something-or-another. 

 

It's all somewhat tolerable until Mike asks her, after dinner, laying together on the couch, what she plans on doing after high school. 

 

She turns his face into his ribs and burrows before shrugging. Very, very quietly, she says, “I thought… maybe, I'll just stay here.”

 

Mike's hand comes and cups the back of her head. He's silent for too long, and she gets nervous, blurts, “Everyone wants to know what college I'm applying to, but I haven't even thought of one, or even looked at scholarships, because I really just don't want to go.”

 

Fingers scrape along her scalp and Mike gives her nothing but a hum. 

 

“Baby girl,” he starts carefully and she closes her eyes to listen. “Don't you think it will be good for you to get some life experience?”

 

“No.” She shakes her head and pushes her nose between his ribs until he grunts and tugs her head back by the hair, but she refuses to look at him. “I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay here with you.”

 

“Nanaba Rose.”

 

She pulls herself free of his hold and curls up into his side again.

 

“Nana, you consider working?”

 

She gives it only a spare thought and it's okay enough to nod, but she quickly adds, “Here. Somewhere local.”

 

“The city,” Mike decides. 

 

“No.”

 

“I work in the city.”

 

“It's different for you.”

 

“Baby, you're being unreasonable ‘bout this.”

 

“I'm not leaving.” Nanaba shakes her head and her body shakes, too, frustrated and worried that Mike will put his foot down and decide something for her that breaks them up. That idea gives her so much nervousness that she can't keep the question inside. “Are you done with me?”

 

Mike is rough, bordering on violent, when he turns her onto her back. He bears his weight with a hand to her sternum and it leaves her breathless, forces her to listen. “Whatever you got in your head, you best get rid of it, and I mean  _ right _ fucking  _ now.” _

 

For the very first time, Mike looks at her like he doesn't understand her, as he cups her face between his big palms and scrutinises her. She hides behind her hands and for once, blessedly for  _ once,  _ he doesn't pry her hands back. But she can't look at him right now, not when this fear is the first emotion she has felt so strongly in so long. 

 

Mike kisses the top of her hands, then each knuckle, before he speaks again. When he does, it sounds like a great feat. “I just want to see you happy, baby girl. I don't want you to feel suffocated.”

 

“I won't,” she promises, though really, she's begging him. “I won't ever feel that way.”

 

Mike rests his forehead against the backs of her hands, the breaths as comforting little rushes of air. “I want to make sure you won't, so will you do something, baby girl? Will you go to college for me?”

 

 _I won't, don't make me leave._ She’ll find a way to stay, she won’t let him push her away like this, but she’ll lie for now, she’ll lie until she finds a way to stay. Sliding her hands down, she looks up at him and leans her chin up to peck his nose. As confidently as possible, she says, “I can. For you. And then I'm coming right back here and you can't stop me.”

 

.

  
  


Lynne, for all her dyed-black hair and nihilism and punk music, is skilled with mathematics, and she is applying early decision to a big name university in Washington, close to Mike’s family, so Nanaba tags her application along. The university has some sort of textiles program, and three state-level family science competition wins makes her an attractive candidate. They get acceptance letters in the mail on the same day. Nile and Renee call Mike to trade congratulations in the fashion that all proud parents do. 

 

Nanaba has a license but no car of her own. She's never needed to go anywhere except with Mike, so standing in the used vehicle lot to choose feels too  _ real.  _ She's leaving home, the second home she's had in her whole, and she doesn't actually want to go, but she's doing it for him, to show him that she really does want to stay with him forever. No-- she needs to do something Mike cannot refuse, and then she won’t have to leave at all, ever.

 

Mike pays cash for a cute little two-door hatchback that he says is sturdy. It’s ten years old and less than fifty-thousand miles, whatever that means. The stereo system sounds cool enough, so she won’t complain. Lynne drives her mom’s old Camry now, so they’ll be pretty evenly matched when they go off to college--  _ if, _ because Nanaba knows she needs to stay here with Mike. She won’t survive without him.

  
  


.

  
  


It’s all an undecided jumble in her head until the reality of what she’s done stares back at her. Suddenly, she feels like Mike can never know what she’s done, yet at the same time, she has an overwhelming urge to call out for him. In the end, flooding with panic, the latter wins.

 

The bathroom door opens slowly and Mike pokes his head in. When he sees what she holds in her hands-- what she stole from the gas station because she didn’t want anyone to suspect a thing-- Mike throws the door open.

 

She holds it out for him but the action stops him. The colour drains from him, the air rushes out, and his chest seems to collapse.

 

“What have you done?” He whispers, eyes on the offered pregnancy test.

 

“It-- it was an-- it was an accident,” she stammers, barely having had time to put her excuse together. “I must’ve just, I dunno, I guess I missed my pill once or twice--”

 

“Don’t,” Mike growls and it shuts her up, “give me that  _ shit.” _

 

“I’m not,” she tries to say but Mike interrupts her again.

 

“That excuse? That’s the shit you say when you do  _ this _ on purpose.”

 

Nanaba feels caught in a web and she can feel a heavy flush rushing up from her chest. She drops the test and takes a step back and to the side, her shoulders finding the wall and she slides down without grace.

 

“Mike,” she whimpers. It’s all too real now, it’s all too much-- leaving, not leaving, having a baby just to stay. Why is she so stupid? What has she burdened him, them with? “Please….”

 

Mike squats next to her, having picked up the test, and examines it as he asks her, “When did you start trying?”

 

“Three months ago,” she says without hesitation. She feels so ashamed, so childish, and she wants to prove he can trust her again by giving him nothing but the truth. “That’s when I stopped taking them.”

 

“When I made you promise?”

 

“Yeah.” Nanaba watches the way he stares, so disbelieving at the two pink lines. She didn’t expect him to be happy, but this anger is frightening in its calm quality. 

 

Finally, Mike tells her, without room to argue, “You’re getting rid of it.”

  
  


.

  
  


He sports a set of scratches on his neck, and her eye is blackened, so they avoid being seen together in public. The space feels good and Nanaba begins to think that Mike is right, that she is feeling suffocated. Going away might truly have been good for her, but she’s fucked it all up now. 

 

Her letterman jacket hangs on her door knob and in its pocket, her phone chimes with another voicemail from Adele. Mike tried twice to take her into the clinic and twice, she fought him, but she knows he wants to deal with this quickly, so she called Adele and made her pregnancy public. But Mike is still acting like what she’s done isn’t enough, that she’s still going to go to college in the autumn.

 

She rolls over and ignores her phone and all the world around her.

 

She just wants to stay, is that so bad? Is it really so wrong to want to stay here, with him? Everyone is fighting her, telling her she’s too young to give up on her education, that she doesn’t know enough yet, that she needs more life experience-- but she knows that she loves Mike, and why is that not enough? His rejection is a steadily burning thing pushing tears through her eyes, just so hot and heavy and shameful. He won’t look at her, he won’t touch her, he’s ten-thousand miles away from her.

  
  


.

  
  


Fate is on Mike’s side.

 

This floor of the hospital is kept warm for newborns, but there’s no bassinet in her room. The nurses are kind about it, giving her gentle touches and gentle words without judgement, giving her sympathy without sarcasm. She’s still heavily drugged, but she feels extraordinarily weak underneath that, like a soul-deep exhaustion on the edge of oblivion, and it beckons to her. She’s been in the maternity ward for twenty-four hours, though she’s been conscious for less than thirty minutes altogether. Mike is ever-present in the recliner beside the window.

 

The whiteboard lists her nurses’ names, the most recent doses of her medications, and the permanent section of the board that says  _ ‘happy birthday to:’ _ remains blank.

 

She begged Fate for a human life just to stay with Mike, and Fate laughed at her, gave her two little bundles of Death instead. One rooted in her tube, and swelled as it grew, and then it burst, meaning to kill all three of them. She remembers annoying twinges of pain, and then she remembers the explosion, the collapsing, the shaking, the frantic paramedics, the helicopter. Doctors in scrubs. They opened her up and scraped her out to save her life. Fate offers her nothing but laughter. Death sneers for a lost charge.

 

Adele comes out to see her and help her transition back to home, and under the matron’s supervision, she sleeps in her own bed for the first time in years.

  
  


.

  
  


She ends up spending a few more weeks in the hospital. An emergency surgery, home, then an unexpected infection, another scraping at her uterus. The infection proves too stubborn. It nearly kills her twice. Weeks of bedrest follow. Nanaba misses finals and graduation, but Mike pulls some strings and she gets to take summer school online in exchange for her diploma.

 

Her healing puts her dependent on him again, and though it was what she wanted a few months ago, she loathes it now. Her periods balance out and her incision heals in a keloid, just in time for her final preparations for college, and she yearns to be away from him. But she won’t be thankful that Mike kept her on track for college. 

 

She will never be thankful to him for anything.

 

Mike loads her stuff into his truck, and she fills her car, too, and then they drive out with the Doks toward the Washington coast.

 

Even though she feels so hurt by Mike, she asks him for a goodbye kiss, in a moment of privacy after unpacking into her and Lynne’s dorm.

 

“Please,” she murmurs, though she refuses to look at him. 

 

He takes her left hand and twines their fingers. First, he raises her hand to his lips and kisses the alexandrite ring. “You’re doing the right thing, Nanaba Rose.”

 

And even though it’s been awkward between them, she can’t help the beaming pride that she has to crush to keep from showing. Mike tugs her close and kisses her forehead. 

 

“I’m proud of you.”

 

Nanaba’s heart squeezes like a venus fly trap around his words, leaves her blinking back teardrops. 

 

“Be a good girl, alright?”

 

She nods, closing her eyes to keep from crying. He kisses her chastely on the mouth. It is goodbye.

  
  
  
  
  



	4. 'love', weakened, desperate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you're all that i am  
> take me home  
> i'm through fighting it  
> [listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOFUkNvK0JI)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for sticking with this, thank you for reading. you can yell at me on [tumblr](http://minxiebutt.tumblr.com) anytime.

She's shy during her first semester. Lynne doesn't mind her clinging, because Lynne now knows the truth. She's known since she saw the handprint bruise. 

 

“I saw him kiss you before he left,” Lynne tells her quietly. “So, like… are you guys done?”

 

Nanaba wipes the back of her hand across her eyes before any tears can fall. It still makes her want to breakdown and run back home, but she knows she has to be stronger. She knows she has to move on. “I think so. I haven't text him or anything.”

 

“You said his family lives up north of here.”

 

“Yeah. But I don't want to see them right now.” Because she is stupid and she told Adele the truth after she turned eighteen, and she feels more embarrassment than she knows how to cope with. 

 

“Let's have friendsgiving, yeah? The RAs said something about it last week.”

 

She nods along. “I'll go halves on a frozen pie, if you want.”

 

Lynne knocks her elbow into Nanaba’s side. “What? No famous home cooking? We have a whole microwave.”

 

Nanaba smirks and shakes her head, not for the first time grateful for Lynne. 

  
  


.

  
  


The two of them adjust to college life, learning to be adults with the freshmen curfews and restrictions. Gelgar transfers in for their second year, and that's when they start to adventure out. Fake IDs cost way too much of Nanaba's stipend from Mike, but it's so well done that the doormen don't scrutinise too hard, despite Lynne always reminding her that she looks twelve. 

 

Parties and clubs are fun enough, but they make her think of Hans, which makes her think of Mike, and all that does is make her lonely as soon as they leave the music and alcohol behind. Sometimes, she'll end up in bed with Lynne and Gelgar as they fuck, but she doesn't participate, she just likes to watch and hold Lynne’s hands. They both offer to get her off, but it's not the same. It's not what she wants that way. 

 

She gets involved with a few fuckboys, because she thinks maybe she'll find a way to push Mike from her mind if she finds a replacement. But they're all boys, and Mike is a man, and these boys know nothing outside of the two minutes it takes for them to get their jollies and leave. It makes her bitter. It makes her feel tainted, to indulge in sex that isn't even worthwhile. 

 

She brought the hook and the muzzle and everything else with her, but she knows these boys can't handle anything but vanilla. It's not even worth asking. 

 

She alternates two moods. One; light and carefree, where nothing hurts her and nothing ever hurt her, where she is invincible and promiscuous and enjoys everything around her. Two; dark, solitary, self-isolating in the most dangerous of ways, utterly scraped out and gutted. And they switch at such short notice sometimes, it leaves her friends bewildered. Through it all, her grades remain steady, so no one worries too hard. 

  
  


.

  
  


The first time she visits Adele, she goes a day before everyone else will arrive for Thanksgiving, and she cries for two hours into an expensive blouse, emptying out almost a year and a half’s worth of emotional anguish kept under lock and key. There's wine after and Adele tries to apologise for her blindness, wants to repent for not realising sooner that Mike--

 

But she stops Adele. She can't hear it, because it will feel too final, and there's a tugging in her heart that draws her back to the woods of Montana. 

 

She's back in the dorm by the time the first of the Zacharias family even show up at the lodge, and late that night, Mike breaches the wall between them for the first time in over a year. 

 

_ ma said you stopped by _

 

Nanaba hovers over the message for an hour before she replies.  _ i missed her _

 

_ she missed you too _ , he sends back immediately, and then,  _ you still have family, you're not alone _

 

That's not something she can reply to. Not yet. Not when the longing explodes in her chest like rupturing fallopian tubes. 

  
  


.

  
  


She tries harder to push Mike from her mind. Drinks too much, goes out too much, lets her grades slip. She'll fuck anything that shows interest in her. It's mostly awful. But if she fucks a guy or a girl more than twice, she'll start to vocalise what she wants-- harder, rougher, call me this name, praise me, humiliate me, more more more; until they throw their hands up and back away, her needs too much for them to handle. 

 

And all the while, she texts Mike, her messages laced with a desperation that he soothes in a way that is unique between them. 

 

No one will ever be enough, not after him. He's ruined her. And he knows it. 

  
  


.

  
  


Lynne watches it for a while before she intercedes by locking Nanaba out of her phone. 

 

“He's not good for you, Nan.” Lynne says, stern. 

 

“Give me my phone back.” Nanaba holds her hand out. 

 

“Promise you won't talk to him anymore.”

 

“Give me my phone.”

 

_ “Promise, _ Nan.”

 

“Give it back.” She will not budge. She will not lie. She's done lying about Mike. She is almost twenty. She has nothing to be ashamed of. 

 

Lynne gives it back with a heavy sigh. 

  
  


.

  
  


No one can soothe her like Mike, no one knows her like him, but he's not here to fuck her, so she still fucks other people. By junior year, she's a sloppy shadow of herself, that's what Mike calls her, along with a slew of other derogatory terms, and the whole conversation brings her a pleasant embarrassment. 

 

_ “You're still mine,” _ he reminds her possessively at the end of the phone calls that become longer, more often.  _ “Get this out of your system while you can.” _

 

She starts coming back around with his family, awkwardly at first, and then she settles back in and finds a comfortable place in the order of things. Mike makes sure not to come around when she's around. It's safest. It keeps the peace for a little while. 

  
  


.

  
  


She wants to go home for the summer preceding senior year, but she knows that if she does, she will not go back to college. Instead, Mike comes out to see her at Thanksgiving, and then again at Christmas, spring break, and Easter. His family catches on and they're displeased with him, but Nanaba’s an adult now. It doesn't matter what they think about it. 

 

Still, everyone comes out to support her for graduation, and there are no snide comments when Mike is the first one to hug her after the ceremony is over. Holding balloons and bouquets, she stands still while Adele gets pictures of her for the family photo albums. Two of the other grandchildren also graduated today, so there's a few group shots, and she really doesn't mind. She's actually really happy that they accept her after everything she's done. Nanaba is selfish but she knows she has put everyone in a difficult position, so she doesn't gloat or demand. 

  
  


.

  
  


“Thank you,” she says when she finishes reading the employment offer. “This is really nice, daddy.”

 

“I can't leave you unsupervised,” Mike says, and leans in to take a kiss. “You're welcome, baby girl.”

 

She'll work at the same place as Mike, under the same schedule. She'll get to spend every working moment under his hand, and then they'll go home together every evening, and she'll get to spend her nights under his body. It's all she's ever wanted, and it's hers. He is all that matters. 

 

“I'm glad you're back home,” Mike murmurs with a nuzzle to the sensitive skin under her ear. Lower, he licks at the metal necklace he sealed and soldered around her throat. “I'm glad you're never leaving again.”


End file.
